field of vision.
I manage to avoid him and Baroness, but though I am driving at a snailâs pace they must surely be startled, because they leap aside as though their lives depended on it, and in a way Iâm thankful thereâs no time for me to return the glaring looks they undoubtedly send in my direction.
The reason thereâs no time is that when I swerve to avoid them I catch a glimpse of Karl Marauder Lander through the side window, which means that since Iâve straightened my course again he must now be directly in front of me. So my only option is to press hard on the horn in order to alert him.
A lot of good things have been said about Mercedes cars. Now I feel able to add to the list that the horn ranks right up there alongside the foghorn of the Finø ferry. Moreover, the sound it makes is amplified as it reverberates against the garden walls along the lane. So now Karl appears again because he has once more felt compelled to leap into the air, providing further evidence of his exceptional powers of vertical propulsion.
I stop the car and get out.
Neither Karl nor Baroness nor Alexander has yet found their feet. This is one of those situations that clearly demand some reassuring gesture, so I wave to them as though to demonstrate that things are under control, and then I lock the car remotely, in part because the most sensible policy when Karl Marauderâs around is to lock everything that isnât bolted to the floor, and in part to demonstrate that I am also in complete charge of the vehicle. And after that I jump over the wall into the garden of the rectory.
16
When I land on the lawn
I see three things that cannot easily be explained.
The first of these is that the long ladder has been taken from the outhouse and leaned against the gable end of the rectory. On its own, this would seem reasonable enough, as the rectoryâs cellar is so deep that the ground floor is actually almost a first floor, and the window of Tilteâs room, at which the ladder has been placed, corresponds in terms of height to what normally would be considered the second floor.
Rather more difficult to comprehend is the fact that four people are on their way up the ladder. Uppermost and at the window is Professor Thorlacius, then comes his wife, in turn followed by the bishop of Grenå, and finally, almost halfway up, Vera the Secretary, who is making a cautious ascent.
The sight of all this prompts the immediate thought that none of the four has climbed a ladder in a good many years, if at all, and for that reason they are under the impression that a ladder is a sort of stairway capable of accommodating several individuals at a time.
The third thing I see is the most difficult with which to reconcile myself. Crouched behind the big rhododendron in frontof me are Tilte and Basker, and beside them, in a little huddle, are Finø Townâs policeman, Finn Metro Poltrop, affectionately known as Finn Flatfoot, and his police dog Titmouse.
Experts claim that dogs resemble their owners, or perhaps vice versa, that dog owners resemble their dogs, and it does seem to be rather a neat theory. For instance, I find that Basker in many ways resembles everyone in our family, including Great-Grandma. Flounderblood and Baroness are definitely a case in point. They could even be man and wife. And the theory fits Finn Flatfoot and Titmouse just as well, because Titmouse isnât your everyday police dog in terms of breed. His more specific origins would be a matter for genealogical research, but like Finn he has hair falling down into its eyes, wears a beard, and is rather corpulent, and like Finn he loves all kinds of food, but especially my fatherâs. Finn Flatfoot weighs in at one hundred and fourteen kilos and says heâs proud of it, and to keep his weight up he frequently stays for dinner at our house.
Like Finn, Titmouse is a friendly creature whose forceful impression derives mostly from his
I manage to avoid him and Baroness, but though I am driving at a snailâs pace they must surely be startled, because they leap aside as though their lives depended on it, and in a way Iâm thankful thereâs no time for me to return the glaring looks they undoubtedly send in my direction.
The reason thereâs no time is that when I swerve to avoid them I catch a glimpse of Karl Marauder Lander through the side window, which means that since Iâve straightened my course again he must now be directly in front of me. So my only option is to press hard on the horn in order to alert him.
A lot of good things have been said about Mercedes cars. Now I feel able to add to the list that the horn ranks right up there alongside the foghorn of the Finø ferry. Moreover, the sound it makes is amplified as it reverberates against the garden walls along the lane. So now Karl appears again because he has once more felt compelled to leap into the air, providing further evidence of his exceptional powers of vertical propulsion.
I stop the car and get out.
Neither Karl nor Baroness nor Alexander has yet found their feet. This is one of those situations that clearly demand some reassuring gesture, so I wave to them as though to demonstrate that things are under control, and then I lock the car remotely, in part because the most sensible policy when Karl Marauderâs around is to lock everything that isnât bolted to the floor, and in part to demonstrate that I am also in complete charge of the vehicle. And after that I jump over the wall into the garden of the rectory.
16
When I land on the lawn
I see three things that cannot easily be explained.
The first of these is that the long ladder has been taken from the outhouse and leaned against the gable end of the rectory. On its own, this would seem reasonable enough, as the rectoryâs cellar is so deep that the ground floor is actually almost a first floor, and the window of Tilteâs room, at which the ladder has been placed, corresponds in terms of height to what normally would be considered the second floor.
Rather more difficult to comprehend is the fact that four people are on their way up the ladder. Uppermost and at the window is Professor Thorlacius, then comes his wife, in turn followed by the bishop of Grenå, and finally, almost halfway up, Vera the Secretary, who is making a cautious ascent.
The sight of all this prompts the immediate thought that none of the four has climbed a ladder in a good many years, if at all, and for that reason they are under the impression that a ladder is a sort of stairway capable of accommodating several individuals at a time.
The third thing I see is the most difficult with which to reconcile myself. Crouched behind the big rhododendron in frontof me are Tilte and Basker, and beside them, in a little huddle, are Finø Townâs policeman, Finn Metro Poltrop, affectionately known as Finn Flatfoot, and his police dog Titmouse.
Experts claim that dogs resemble their owners, or perhaps vice versa, that dog owners resemble their dogs, and it does seem to be rather a neat theory. For instance, I find that Basker in many ways resembles everyone in our family, including Great-Grandma. Flounderblood and Baroness are definitely a case in point. They could even be man and wife. And the theory fits Finn Flatfoot and Titmouse just as well, because Titmouse isnât your everyday police dog in terms of breed. His more specific origins would be a matter for genealogical research, but like Finn he has hair falling down into its eyes, wears a beard, and is rather corpulent, and like Finn he loves all kinds of food, but especially my fatherâs. Finn Flatfoot weighs in at one hundred and fourteen kilos and says heâs proud of it, and to keep his weight up he frequently stays for dinner at our house.
Like Finn, Titmouse is a friendly creature whose forceful impression derives mostly from his
Similar Books
