If you have been wondering what did happen to the missing capybara, she is still on the run. This unauthorised picture shows a capybara family who are not related and live at a different wildlife park, but you will know what you are looking for if you do spot her.
Not lost, but found was a genuine axolotl . It is only found in South America, but somehow ended up under a bridge in Wales and was found by a ten year old girl who loves wildlife. Picture may not be accurate representation of the rescued axolotl.
When you suspect that the environmentally friendly GREEN car you were sold may have been a scam.
A lot has been happening in the world since I took my blogging break… find out more in tonight’s story...
The boss stared at the television screen in horror as a familiar face loomed into view and an all too familiar voice began to spout words.
‘We have the biggest rockets and we are going to blast the moon out of its orbit, blast it to pieces if necessary to stop those Chinese claiming ownership or IRan blockading our moonlight.
Our four brave astronauts, thanks to me, are taking off today, further into space than ever before, further into space than planned. I have authorised them to keep going till they get to Mars and claim it for our great country and rename it in my honour…’
‘Darling, wakey wakey, Darling WAKE UP aren’t you supposed to be going to the base, isn’t Artemis taking off today?’
‘Oh my God, what time is it? I just had the most dreadful dream… I must get to the base before he puts a jinx on the whole operation.’
Amid calls for NASA to take over running the USA with their calm, dignified efficiency, viewers are tuning in to a new live broadcast on News 24 to fill the vacuum left since the astronauts returned safely to earth.
At 47, Acacia Avenue, Surbiton the Smith family are preparing for the challenge of another boring day in suburbia.
‘Clive, what is the weather report and how will this affect the Smiths?’
‘Temperature warm for April, but showers expected later. However, there is a strong breeze which would make it worthwhile to hang the washing out on the line.’
‘We are going over to Sally who is observing the back garden, where Alfie the Caverpoo is investigating behind the garden shed.’
‘Yes this could be significant as there have been reports of foxes. But more importantly the back door is opening… yes, Mrs Smith is coming out with a basket full of washing, setting it down on the patio, looking up at the sky doubtfully. She is returning indoors, this is not looking good… Oh it’s okay, she has come out with a peg bucket. We do know wooden pegs are being used, having been found the most effective and environmentally friendly method of hanging up the washing. Now she is looking up at the sky again, a large black cloud has appeared, this is the sort of dilemma faced with English weather.’
‘Yes Sally, the Met Office has confirmed rain is sweeping in from the west and we hand over to our kitchen correspondent Claire who can confirm Mrs Smith has brought the washing back into the kitchen.’
‘Mrs Smith is putting the washing into the tumble drier, clearly distressed at the change of mission plan. It may be a surprise to some viewers, that like many English homes, the washing machine and tumble drier are in the kitchen, the Smith’s home has no utility room. At this point we should ask Mike, our reporter on environmental issues, what impact it will have, the use of electricity to dry the washing instead of wind and solar power.’
‘Yes this is bad news…’
‘If you are just joining us, after a long stressful day we await to see if all the Smith family get home safely for their dinner. Mr Smith is cooking this evening. John, how common is it for husbands to do the cooking?’
‘More common than you might think. We understand that Mr Smith works an early shift so Mrs Smith has a busy morning getting the children ready for school, tidying up after breakfast, taking them to school on her way to her job for 9.30 am. Mr Smith is responsible for collecting them from school and Mrs Smith is expected home any moment, hopefully before the children get too hungry. Sam is outside in Acacia Avenue awaiting her return.’
‘Yes John I can see her red car coming round the corner and this is the hard part where she must make a sharp turn onto the narrow driveway and line up to plug in her electric car to charge overnight.’
‘After a few tense moments the family are sitting at the table and Mr Smith is removing and switching off all electronic devices.’
Any viewers rejoining us I can report that the dishwasher was successfully loaded after dinner and our couple are now making preparations for bed. If we can get the camera in closer to the dishwasher, yes a red light is showing the cycle has finished. At this stage it is important to… good, Mrs Smith has opened the door and left it ajar, this ensures optimum drying conditions in the dishwasher. Meanwhile her husband has ventured out to the back garden to fetch Alfie the dog in and has now locked the back door. I can confirm the back door has been safely locked.
Rejoin us at six am tomorrow to see if the family have made it safely through the night.
I must have ticked the wrong box, how else did I volunteer to deliver leaflets for a candidate in the local elections? New in the area, I recalled filling in an on line survey for opinions on what the council should do for us. I had plenty of ideas. I did not tick the box for the weekly gardening in the park, that was my craft morning. I did not tick the box for the Sunday morning litter pick, I was Facetiming Australia.
I did put my email address to avoid revealing where I actually lived, so that was how I came to receive a message from Nathan Nabor, standing for election once again.
Thanks so much for volunteering to deliver our leaflets, your support is greatly valued. I shall bring them round tomorrow evening, let me know if that’s convenient.
I replied Yes, after all he did not know where I lived, that was probably a generic message to all his supporters.
The next day I arrived home from my part time job and there he was on the doorstep with a hefty bag adorned with a ChatGPT improved image of himself.
‘Mrs Gullible, delighted to meet you. New in the area I gather, divorced or widowed?’
I was a little taken aback, was this an appropriate way for a pillar of the community to speak?
‘DFL’ I replied.
‘Divorced from London?’
‘Down From London, making a new start, getting involved.’
‘Excellent, excellent.’
What on earth possessed me to say involved when I had dreamed of a quiet life as an artist? I wasn’t actually an artist yet, but it was worth a try.
‘Is it okay if I come in so I can show you the ropes?’
He was already in the hall with one foot in my little kitchen diner. The small table barely had room for the mound of leaflets and envelopes spilling out of the bag.
‘Letters addressed to engaged voters we have spoken to, leaflets for every home and a map. You’ll need that being new, even our veteran leafleteers need a map.
So it was that I found myself in a strong south westerly blowing straight off the sea, wending my way round steep lanes, among the cottages that had looked so full of character when I was house hunting. Every front door was accessible only by twisted flights of steps, worn down by generations of feet. Descent was more hazardous than the ascent. No two doors had their letter box in the same position. Occasionally a letter would drop in easily, but most involved a battle with the bristles. One was so tight I thought my hand was stuck. When I managed to pull it out, my engagement ring was missing. Good riddance, I had tried to sell it, but it was not worth anything. Would the occupant notice a piece of jewellery on their doormat?
The front doors that put up the greatest battles were also the ones with ferocious dogs on the other side. I tried to get out through the front gate before an irate owner opened his front door. I stumbled a few times, how embarrassing if I fell down and broke something. The poor householder who didn’t want a leaflet and was probably cooking dinner, would be confronted with a 999 situation in their front garden.
I knew many householders in this town did not welcome strangers judging by the notices on the door or fixed nearby.
NO CALLERS
NO UNSOLICITED TRADERS
NO CANVASERS
NO JUNK MAIL
NO JW.ORG
WE DO NOT SPEAK TO PERSONS TOUTING FOR BUSINESS, PLEASE LEAVE AND DO NOT RETURN.
I hoped election leaflets were not junk mail, but were they canvassing? I omitted some homes, erring on the side of caution. It was now raining, but I only had one more lane to do, 12 letters, 36 leaflets and a lovely view of the sea, or would have been without the rainy mist rolling in.
My mistake was getting over confident in my new mountain goat agility, the rain was making stone steps slippery. The leaflet ripped as I tried to slip it in a wooden door that had not seen paint or varnish for decades. I stuffed the torn paper in my pocket and started again with a new leaflet. Ferocious barking was followed by bellowing.
‘WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT AT THE DOOR … SHUT UP RUFUS’.
I beat a hasty retreat, but one foot got left behind and the other foot left me behind. I ended up in a crumpled heap against the rickety front gate. My brain said I could get up, but my body disagreed. Please body, don’t tell me I have a broken ankle.
My body replied ‘What do you think that loud crack was and that horrendous pain?’
My brain said ‘Get your mobile phone out and dial 999 before that man comes out.’
But my phone was tucked safely in my back pack and I was lying on my back pack. At that moment the front door opened.
Have you ever been a leafleteer?
Non digital visitors are coming Chez Tidalscribe for the Easter holidays, who knows what will happen to my blog or Mrs Gullible…
And now, new on BBC Radio Four, a well known author, blogger and podcaster, brings her unique views to radio. Grace Darling says it as it is…
Hello and welcome. Here we are going to talk about anything and everything. Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and wonder why it took humans so long to invent the bicycle or where Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor goes to do his shopping now?
My guests this week are not revealing their names in case they are persecuted in social media, but I’m sure they will chip in with some acerbic comments.
What careers did you aspire to when you were at school? I wanted to be a journalist, but my home town only had one newspaper and nothing happened to be reported anyway. Now we can all be journalists with the wonders of PressWords and suchlike. My blog Scribbletide. com has millions of followers, some of them even genuine.
My next career idea in sixth form was to be a Political Editor, they don’t seem to have to do much except talk a lot and occasionally stand out in the rain. Where did all these talking heads come from? That girl you went to school with who wanted to be a hairdresser, suddenly appears on ‘Late Night News for Intelligent People’ as Chief Financial Editor of The Times. How on earth did she get there?
I blame it on Brexit. Endless discussions on what the results might be, followed by wailing and gnashing of teeth when the results came out and then interminable years of talking with the EU on how to do it. When Brexit was finally signed and sealed we had a world wide pandemic to commentate on plus Trump in Triumph and the game of musical chairs in our Cabinet.
My father loves to watch all the political and serious news programmes, with a running commentary
‘He’ll be gone next, she’ll be getting a vote of no confidence by the end of the week.’
My mother meanwhile will be busy knitting and making her own comments ‘I don’t care how clever that woman is, nobody with such an irritating voice should be allowed on television or radio. Oh for goodness sake, what does he look like, has he glanced in a mirror lately?’
Her knitting group once knitted the whole royal wedding, William and Catherine. While her friends created exquisite uniforms, beautiful dresses and realistic faces, Mother was consigned to knit the corgis. I don’t know if Sarah Fergusson, formerly known as The Duchess of York, knits, but she has apparently cottoned on to a more sophisticated method of copying corgis. The late Queen’s corgis were ill advisedly bequeathed to Andrew and Sarah and expected to live out their days in Windsor Great Park. We hear Sarah had plans to have them cloned and make money selling royal corgi cloned puppies. Do not try this at home, it is illegal in this country to clone your dog.
Another animal swept Trump from the headlines this week, the escape of a giant guineapig caused great excitement in Hampshire. Two Capybara sisters escaped soon after their arrival at Marwell Zoo, one huddled under a bush and was easily caught, while the other has been on the loose for over a week, with sightings but no chance of capture.
But let us finish today’s programme on a cultural note. The Bayeux tapestry is returning to England after more than 900 years in France. But whose idea was it? A French antique arts expert, defender of the tapestry, told me of his shock when watching President Macron and our Prime Minister having a jolly chat. Then out of the blue, in a throw away remark, Macron says ‘We’re sending the Bayeux Tapestry to England.’
What!!! That has never been mentioned and art experts were never consulted. The whole tapestry will fall to pieces if it’s moved…
Watch this space. If it disintegrates in England we will have to make them a new one and how long will that take?
Well that’s it for this week folks, my thanks to my guests, oh I’ve just realised I did not give them a chance to speak….
If you would like to listen to this week’s episode again you can listen later on BBC Radio Four Extra, BBC World Service and anytime on your smart speaker or whatever devices you know how to work with BBC Sounds.
What ideas would you like Grace to ponder on next week?
‘I don’t know why you bother buying the Echo, there’s never any news in it.’
‘I thought I would find out what happened round the corner yesterday, headline on the front page.’
‘Nothing happened yesterday.’
‘Why were there three police cars then? Here it is…
Man Arrested in Dunholme Avenue. Charlie Sharp who lives in Dunholme Avenue said “We don’t usually get police cars around here, I don’t know what was going on.”
Masie Mason said “I was just returning from walking Alfie my poodle and I was astonished to see the commotion, it’s usually very quiet around here. I saw a man being put in the back of the police car.”
Another neighbour who wished to remain anonymous said “Someone just moved into that house. It’s very worrying, this used to be a nice neighbourhood.”
Jack, who did not want to give his surname, said “I was just coming out of my front door to take Bubbles my cockerpoo for a walk, we always go the same time each day, when he started barking and I said What’s up Bubbles? Then I saw three police cars driving off. The people that lived there before had a dog, Bubbles’ best friend, he was a caverpoo. I don’t think the new people have a dog.”
The Echo contacted Hambourne police station, but a spokesperson said they could not comment.
The Echo should have interviewed me, I could have told them about all those screams I heard the night before.’
Mrs De-Ath hurried along the high street on Monday morning to open her florists on time, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she passed the window of the new people.
We Put the Fun in Funerals said the bright yellow sign at the top of the display. Filling the large bay shop window was what could only be described as a model fairground meeting a pop festival and all drenched in a rainbow.
They had heard only that a funeral directors was moving into the vape shop closed down by the police. That had seemed excellent news with the prospect of new customers ordering wreaths and perhaps the occasional imaginative arrangement. The shop had been boarded up for a few weeks with the hopeful noises of improvements.
She peered closer at the Barbie doll lying in a pink coffin. Above it was a rainbow shaped notice.
No need to wait for the Grim Reaper, pop in now for free coffee and cakes and meet our jolly crew.
As Mrs De-Ath shook her head in bewilderment and looked at her watch, the door flew open and a figure like an aging Alice in Wonderland stepped out.
‘Greetings, you’re Mrs Death from the flower shop aren’t you?’
‘Mrs Delia De-Ath from the florist.’
‘Well I’m sure we’re going to get along, I’m Morticia. I hope you have lots of exotic flowers.’
‘Um, our customers are quite a conservative bunch… it’s all daffodils and tulips at the moment.’
‘I hope to change that then, I expect your locals could do with a good shake up.’
‘I think a good shake up might finish them off.’
‘All the better, more customers for me.’
Morticia went off into gales of laughter.
Delia scurried away, mumbling about opening times.
She did not have any customers that morning, everyone in town seemed to be popping in to meet Morticia. After lunch a gaunt young man dressed as a Goth sidled into the shop.
‘Greetings, Edwin, Edwin Drood, Morticia’s assistant, glad to meet you Delia. Now, do you have black daffodils?’
‘Goodness, no such thing. I thought bright colours were the er… theme of your establishment.’
‘Do I look as if I like bright colours? We cater for all tastes and our first customer is a Goth, was a Goth. We can get the black horses and the glass hearse, but his widow thought it would be a real laugh to have black flowers.’
‘The nearest I can do is dark purple tulips, or if there is time, perhaps I could see if my supplier could obtain a black orchid.’
Whatever Delia De-Ath thought of the new funeral directors, she felt she couldn’t turn down any business. The whole parade of shopkeepers and many locals turned out to see the Goth’s hearse leave. In a carriage behind, the widow and family all wore black orchids.
When Delia heard that they were going to have a biker’s funeral she wondered what the turnout would be and what the biker would be carried in. A large order of sunflowers did not fit the biker image.
On the day a huge line up of motorbikes blocked the high street and had shoppers gawping. They were all dressed in bright colours and greeting each other effusively, laughing and joking and sharing stories of Mad Mike. Delia approached Morticia who was even more colourful than usual.
‘What will his coffin come in?’
‘Oh no coffin, his bike’s on a trailer, as per Mike’s wishes. Ah here he is…’
Delia gasped. ‘That’s surely not him, sitting ON the bike, grinning?’
Today’s stroll started with a long brisk walk, but I’ve saved you that part. We are at the top and the end of Hengistbury Head. It was sunny, but seems to have got cloudy again. At least you can still see the Isle of Wight. I do not know if this yellow object was planted by aliens or…
Look down on Mudeford Sandspit, do you want to go down there?
Would you like one of these beach huts? Some look over the harbour, others out to sea and some lucky ones have a view in both directions.
Do you find new technology mind boggling? By new I mean anything that you did not personally know about this time last week. Do you find recent innovations mind boggling? By recent I mean anything that has happened since you left school.
You obviously think you know about technology otherwise you would not be reading this on a device of some sort, but do you know how it actually works? If you do, please let the rest of us know. For most of us the mysterious workings are akin to alchemy or the dark arts. Chips are involved and are made of silicone, rather than potatoes and silicone is made from sand. There is plenty of sand on the beach, but what happens next?
On line workings are supposedly run by AI, or computers as we used to call them, but how come these logical beings have a very human urge to deliberately annoy us?
I can do all sorts of things on line, but Arty Imp lulls me into a false sense of security and confidence. Browsing wallpaper on B&Q’s site on my desk top ( I like to see everything on a large screen ) it offered to send samples for a small remuneration. I put several into the shopping basket, already I could picture how my attic office might look. I put in my order as a guest, it wouldn’t let me, it seemed I had joined B&Q Club when I bought one garden chair on line. I looked up my little notebook and typed in my email and the password I had presumably used last time. It did not recognise it. No problem, just pretend I had forgotten it. Nothing would enable me to get a password they approved of, links were sent to my email, texted to me… I gave up, it would be easier to take two buses to my nearest B&Q where I would not see the wallpapers I liked, because they had already told me they were only available on line… Anyway, not as if it was important… but thinking outside the box later I decided to pretend I was a new customer and use my other email address, Not join the club, say No to being on the emailing list. I did not want any sort of relationship, just the wallpaper samples. My purchase went straight through with reassuring emails and they soon arrived in the post. Of course, obviously if I choose one I like they will not actually let me buy a whole roll…
To check how Tech Savy you are take this simple test.
You want to send money to your nephew for his birthday. Do you
Use face recognition or finger print to do a bank transfer on your phone
Get on the bus and go to the nearest town that still has a branch of your bank open and talk to a human behind the desk.
It’s your sister’s birthday today, do you
WhatsApp her to arrange a time to Facetime
Ring her on your landline.
You have not heard from your elderly aunt for a few days, do you
Play a round of Words With Friends on your phone and see if she plays back.
Call her house phone from your house phone which is firmly tethered by a wire.
You need a relaxing evening after dealing with technology all day, do you
Stream a box set of a new drama and stay up all night binge watching
Look in the newspaper or Radio Times to see what’s on BBC before the ten o’clock news.
If you answered A to all the questions welcome to the first quarter of the 21st century, but beware what you will face in this next quarter.
If you answered B every time you just might be able to cope if all the electricity is switched off, perhaps…
But how is the present matching up to the future predicted in the 20th century? We are not sitting at a phone table with a curly wire attaching our phone to the wall and a little TV screen showing a live picture of our relatives on the other side of the world.
The first ‘mobile phones’ most of us saw were on Star Trek, some of us watching in black and white. Their hand held flip up devices could Teleport them down to a strange planet, but they could not take photos, text their friends, watch videos or Facetime with friends on the other side of the universe. It may have slowed the plot if they had to play back on Quiz Planet before stepping on to their platform.
On arrival on the new planet they stop to take a selfie together in front of a strange volcano so they can put it on Instagram. Then Captain Kirk pauses to take a picture of the Aliens who have crept up without them noticing. He wants to WhatsApp a picture to his mother billions of light years away.
Meanwhile a junior officer has not noticed the aliens as he is bending down to snap strange plants using the plant recognition App.
His colleague is glued to the screen exclaiming ‘210 points for OXO, how did he do that and I’ve got all vowels’.
Captain Kirk is now on Google maps, having failed to understand what the Aliens are saying, their language is not coming up on his translation App.
The weather App was not much use either as it failed to predict the electric storm and downpour of acid rain. It seems like a good time to beam up, but their phones need recharging…
Did you score A or B or perhaps AB? What is your favourite 21st Century invention?
For a brief moment it had stopped raining so Noah called Rufus and they set off for their usual walk down to the estuary while the tide was low. It was a new routine since the endless rain this winter. No one had ever seen the river running so high and most had abandoned the popular footpaths which were either too muddy or had disappeared completely. But Rufus was a big young dog who loved the water and had a lot of energy to burn up. Noah had assured Sally that their dog’s acute senses would keep them both safe. He wasn’t exactly sure if this was true; Rufus could well abandon caution and his master if he spotted a lost seal washed in.
There was a bigger surprise for them both. On the narrow strip of shore revealed by the low tide was a beached boat, a very large boat. Noah had always wanted his own boat, but Sally was not keen and his bank account was even less keen. Could his boyhood dream have come true? It was hardly a dream boat, lying on its side looking very sorry. The dog was rushing round it, nose in the sand, tail wagging. It occurred to Noah it could be a ship wreck with bodies on board. A closer look revealed no holes or signs of major damage. More likely it had slipped it’s mooring from some distance away, no boats like that around here. He ran his hand over the bow, good solid wood, very old wood. Could this be an antique boat? Noah decided to climb inside, not an easy task with slippery wood at that angle, especially after his recent knee replacement. He clambered over and slid down the deck, landing on the side of the wheelhouse. He stayed on his wheelhouse perch to survey the deck, which was as seaweed clad as a rockpool. The funnel was still in place, the top resting in the sand below where the tide was creeping back in. The mast had snapped leaving only a jagged stump. The boat was longer than he had supposed when he stood beneath the hull. Perhaps it had been a coastal steamer similar to those his grandfather used to describe, taking supplies all round the coast, the family living on board. What fun that had seemed to young Noah and it could still be fun.
This was a vessel that deserved to be rescued and restored, returned to its former glory, then he could take Sally on the cruises she dreamt of. The water around them was becoming more turbulent as the river in full spate met the incoming tide. A rescue was needed right now, restoring it could be planned later. Rufus would not be much help with that, he was barking anxiously for Noah to get back down on the beach.
There was no point in having three robust sons if you did not summon them for an important mission. Simon first, he worked at the boat yard as a general dogsbody, but he drove trucks and trailers bringing boats in to be repaired and launching them back out to sea. Could his bad tempered boss be persuaded to give space in his yard next to those posh yachts and respectable working fishing boats?
‘Dad, how on earth do you think we can get that on a trailer?’
‘Wait till Ben arrives.’
‘You think his gangmaster is going to let him off the building site with his expensive machinery?’
‘He is not a gangmaster, I play darts with him.’
‘The tide is coming in, can’t we wait and see if it floats the boat?’
‘And floats it away?’
Noah looked around nervously, there was more than the tide to worry about. Nosey people calling whatever authorities would be interested. Noah had no idea how he stood legally, lucky his third son was a lawyer.
Sally cooked a big dinner that night, delighted to have all three sons at home for a meal. Noah had promised to explain everything when they were all sat down properly, showered and warmed up after their epic day.
‘You rescued what!? Why? It’s not the Mary Rose.’
‘The Mary Rose is not restored, it can’t sail, our boat will go to sea again.’
Tim the lawyer had been trying to speak.
‘Haven’t you lot been listening to the news, we have more to worry about than your ship wreck. Your house is probably going to be flooded, the council wants everyone to start making evacuation plans.’
‘Not us surely’ said Sally.
‘Yes I have seen the plans, you are getting nearer and nearer to the river and it’s getting worse upstream. I thought that’s why you called me round this evening, to help you pack. I’ve booked a space at ‘Storealot’.
‘That awful fluorescent orange building on top of the hill?’
‘Yes Mother and very grateful you will be to have your stuff safe in there.’
‘But where will we go, we’re not staying in your tiny flat…’
Tim looked relieved.
‘…and we certainly can’t stay in Simon’s caravan.’
Simon looked relieved.
‘And there’s no room at Becky’s parents’ Ben added hastily.
‘That’s why you have to be registered now, you can get on the priority list as you’re vulnerable.’
‘I’m not bloody vulnerable’ Noah spoke for the first time.
‘You just had a knee replacement.’
‘And I’ve just rescued a steamer, a boat that we can use when the flood comes’ he slapped the table. ‘Of course, the boat is a heavenly message. At least we won’t have to build it, worry about cubits… ‘
Tim laughed, they all laughed.
‘They laughed at my namesake, then they all wanted to get on board when it didn’t stop raining. Tim and your mother can pack up the house, get a hotel booked before everyone else does, me, Simon and Ben, straight down the yard in the morning, get that deck scrubbed. The accommodation down below is surprisingly roomy from what I could see. All of us could fit in for forty days, or whatever…’
‘What do you mean all of us?’
‘Wel, just in case the whole world gets flooded again.’
‘It wasn’t the whole world last time Dad, just a bit of the Middle East.’
‘If I’m wrong we will have had a nice cruise like you mother wanted.’
‘Becky won’t want to leave her parents behind.’
‘We have to be ruthless, we need young women, not oldies, except to steer the boat, you two better hurry up and get yourselves girlfriends. ‘
‘I have got one,’ said Simon ‘but she wants a city break to Paris, flying, not in a tug boat.’
‘I won’t be going,’ said Tim ‘Lawrence and I will not be much use to repopulate the planet.’
‘What about Rufus.’
‘No,’ said Simon ‘we’ll need animals we can eat.’
The Ark restoration attracted plenty of attention and despite the laughter of the other boat owners, Noah noticed a lot of activity around posh yachts that normally stayed in the yard till spring. Food stores and suitcases were being sneaked in.
It was amazing how many things you could get on Amazon thought Noah, hammocks, sleeping bags, astronauts’ ready meals, a motor and navigation instruments. Tim had been right, their house was soon under water. Locals were blaming the council. Noah waited till high tide was at night so they could slip away quietly… He would love to see everyone’s faces in the morning.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 