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Nigel's Notebook
by Deborah Z

I awoke to find the sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains. Jumping out of bed, I flung the windows wide open and looked out at the blue sky, scattered with small cotton wool clouds.
"Lizzie," I announced, "Today IÂ’m going out on my bicycle. Are there any errands youÂ’d like me to run?"
Lizzie is rarely at her best first thing in the morning, and she looked at me with bleary eyes and muttered something indistinguishable.
"Come on, old girl," I said, "ItÂ’s almost 7 oÂ’clock on a glorious spring day."
This had the effect of making her jump out of bed with a shriek of:
"7 o’clock? And I’ve got the representative from the European Commission coming to see if they can use Lower Loxley Hall for one of their conferences, at 9. Stop dawdling Nigel – and if you’re going out, take those letters in my office and post them."

After a jolly good breakfast of free-range eggs, bacon and some of Tommy’ organic sausages, followed by Jill’s marmalade and toast, all washed down liberally with tea, I donned my cycling gear. Pausing to pick-up Lizzie’s letters, and abstracting £20 from petty cash to pay for the stamps, I strolled into the grounds. The wildlife garden was a picture: amongst the sea of bluebells I could see the primroses and cowslips beginning to push their way through. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, the air was full of bird song, and over by the birdbath, I noticed a fine pair of great tits.

"Â’Morning, Mr Pargetter," said Hayley, startling me out of my reverie, and adding "Are you going out on your bike?"

This last remark I found somewhat unnecessary, since I was wearing my special shoes, bicycling pants (the seat reinforced with chamois leather), my yellow jumper and was carrying my gloves and my safety helmet. Hardly an outfit in which I would present myself if I was off to visit the bank manager!

At that moment, the twins came tearing round the corner, ringing the bells on their fairy bikes, pedalling furiously, and shouting, "Beep beep – out the way Daddy!" before disappearing in the direction of the folly.

"WonÂ’t be long before theyÂ’ll be able to accompany on my rides," I remarked to Hayley.
"I think you might have to wait a few years yet," she replied, "Anyway, IÂ’d better go and see what theyÂ’re up to. Have a nice ride."

Now I know IÂ’ve said this before, but at the risk of being a bore, I think itÂ’s worth repeating: you really donÂ’t know what you miss speeding along, cooped up in a car. It really was the most wonderful day, and as I rode along the country lanes, I couldnÂ’t help paraphrasing Browning.
"Oh to be in Ambridge, now that spring is here?" I recited to myself. I would have gone further, but unfortunately that is the only line I can remember.

Arriving at the village green, I stopped off at the shop, to buy some stamps, and waited patiently whilst Betty counted out my change, before deciding to buy a can of Tizer and a couple of chocolate flakes. IÂ’m afraid that I became rather partial to them during my time as Mr Snowy!

Coming out of the shop, I decided that I’d go to Lakey Hill and see how far up I could get, before being forced to walk. When I arrived at the foot of the hill, I could see that someone was already at the top. As I got nearer I could hear whoever it was playing what seemed to be a pipe of some kind, rather like the one I had when I was a member of the recorder club at my prep school. I must admit though, he was a sight better than me – I never progressed much beyond "London’s burning".

I dismounted from my bicycle and approached him with interest, surprised to see it was young Christopher Carter. The breeze ruffled his dark curly hair and although naked from the waist up, he was clad in the most extraordinary pair of trousers, which appeared to be made of animal hair of some kind. I think I must have stared rather rudely at him, for he said,
"Demeter".
At first I thought this rather cryptic, but then I remembered that the poor boy had been born with a slight disfigurement, and that this had obviously affected his pronunciation. Recovering my manners, I replied,
"And IÂ’m very please to meet you, Christopher. Do you mind if I join you? IÂ’m a bit out of breath after that climb."
He nodded his assent, and I sat down beside him and offered him some of my Tizer and chocolate. He shook his head, and pulled out from a leather satchel a brown paper package, containing bread and some rather smelly cheese, and a small bottle, which he uncorked and began drinking from.

"I say, " I said, jovially, "I do hope thatÂ’s not wine, young Christopher!"
He replied, "Retsina", which I understood to be his way of saying Ribena. We sat in companionable silence, each of us munching his provisions, and when we had finished, he picked up his flute and once again began playing. His manner of playing was masterly, and the tunes odd and strangely disturbing. I think I must have dozed off, for I had a strange dream, in which Christopher was dancing amidst the sheep - which suddenly turned into ethereal young maidens.

I awoke with a start. The sky had clouded over, it had started to turn a bit chilly, and I felt the first spots of rain. There was no sign of Christopher and the sheep were grazing normally. Unaccountably I was filled with a sense of panic. I seized my bicycle and sped full pelt in the direction of Lower Loxley. It began to rain heavily and by the time I reached home I was soaked to the skin. Luckily, Lizzie was out, and thus unable to make a scathing remark on the length of time IÂ’d been gone. I ran myself a hot bath, and lay back among the bubbles.

It really had been a most disconcerting encounter.