her!’ Uncle Quagmire said. ‘She’s old, you know.’
They all turned and watched as Old Hag raised herself out of the flower bed. ‘Ha!’ she cried as she eventually scuttled over to them. ‘So, this is 1964, is it?’
‘1964?’ gasped Betty. ‘Gosh and wow! But where are we? Is this Stoke-on-Trent?’
‘No, silly girl,’ said Uncle Quagmire, having a private chuckle at Betty’s expense. ‘This is like Stoke-on-Trent but it’s more like Salzburg.’
‘The one near Brisbane?’ asked Daniel. ‘Golly, how exciting!’
Uncle Quagmire had yet another private chuckle, with the reassuring thought that two private chuckles in the space of a few seconds was really going some.
‘No,’ he said. ‘This Salzburg is near Austria, which is closely joined by land to several other neighbouring countries.’
‘Gosh!’ said Daniel, ever eager to expand his woefully inadequate knowledge about European geography and, surreptitiously, the history of lace making in the East Midlands.
‘I tell you what,’ said Uncle Quagmire, keen to maintain the narrative pace. ‘All this fantasterful time-travelling has made me quite thirsty. How about finding a shop that dispenses drinks and we’ll chat all about it over a scrumlicious cup of whatever they sell in these times.’
‘Good idea!’ said Betty, enthusiastically. ‘It’s a shame Ricky isn’t here to enjoy it, isn’t it?’
‘Woof woof WOOF!!!!’ barked Whatshisname for no reason whatsoever except, perhaps, as a subconscious motivation derived from anthropological customs, or because Uncle Quagmire had trodden ‘accidentally’ on his paw.
Happily, they all walked or, in the case of Whatshisname,limped, to an Austrian outdoor café in a four-sided outdoor square, where they all sat down and ordered lemon and lime cordial and ginger cake, which were freely available in Salzburg in 1964, were they not?
‘So, tell us all about this secret mission,’ said Daniel. ‘And the reason why you were kidnapped.’
‘I know it all!’ interrupted Old Hag, who had trailed behind them and was now making herself quite comfortable at their table. ‘Ask me! Ask me!’
‘Okay,’ said Betty, with a hint of a firm but tranquil shrug. ‘Tell us if you must.’
‘Well,’ said Old Hag, ‘your Uncle Quagmire is on a secret mission and he was forced to make use of his time machine to come here and save the world by stopping a stunt nun from getting preggers . . .’ Quite suddenly she stopped talking and looked around her. ‘Where are we, Quaggy? Is this Loughborough? Where am the nuns?’
‘No, it’s not Loughborough, silly Old Hag. We’re in Salzburg, near Austria,’ said Uncle Quagmire knowingly and almost reassuringly.
‘Are you sure it’s not the one near Brisbane, Uncle Quagmire?’ asked Daniel.
‘Stunt nun?’ enquired Betty.
‘Preggers?’ asked Amy. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Woof woof woof,’ moaned Whatshisname, licking his paw.
‘I thought you said you was going to Loughborough,’ said Old Hag. ‘I’m sure that you said . . .’
‘Anyway,’ interrupted Uncle Quagmire, ‘as I was saying, children, I was kidnapped and made to . . .’
‘Go back to nineteen sixty four!’ said Old Hag.
‘Look!’ said Uncle Quagmire to Old Hag, quite irritably for a man of his shoe size. ‘It’s
my
story and there are people out there waiting to know all about this, okay? Don’t you have to do something, go somewhere? Go off to the toilet or something like that?’
‘Oh blimey, ta very much, I knew there was something I had to do,’ mumbled Old Hag, as she scrambled off her chair and scurried away, bravely followed by Whatshisname who had been desperate to go since chapter six.
‘Right,’ said Uncle Quagmire, ‘now she’s gone, gather round the table and I’ll explain.’
‘Yes, let’s!’ said Amy, gathering round a little too quickly and making herself dizzy.
‘Well children, thanks for gathering round so obediently. Now, my
They all turned and watched as Old Hag raised herself out of the flower bed. ‘Ha!’ she cried as she eventually scuttled over to them. ‘So, this is 1964, is it?’
‘1964?’ gasped Betty. ‘Gosh and wow! But where are we? Is this Stoke-on-Trent?’
‘No, silly girl,’ said Uncle Quagmire, having a private chuckle at Betty’s expense. ‘This is like Stoke-on-Trent but it’s more like Salzburg.’
‘The one near Brisbane?’ asked Daniel. ‘Golly, how exciting!’
Uncle Quagmire had yet another private chuckle, with the reassuring thought that two private chuckles in the space of a few seconds was really going some.
‘No,’ he said. ‘This Salzburg is near Austria, which is closely joined by land to several other neighbouring countries.’
‘Gosh!’ said Daniel, ever eager to expand his woefully inadequate knowledge about European geography and, surreptitiously, the history of lace making in the East Midlands.
‘I tell you what,’ said Uncle Quagmire, keen to maintain the narrative pace. ‘All this fantasterful time-travelling has made me quite thirsty. How about finding a shop that dispenses drinks and we’ll chat all about it over a scrumlicious cup of whatever they sell in these times.’
‘Good idea!’ said Betty, enthusiastically. ‘It’s a shame Ricky isn’t here to enjoy it, isn’t it?’
‘Woof woof WOOF!!!!’ barked Whatshisname for no reason whatsoever except, perhaps, as a subconscious motivation derived from anthropological customs, or because Uncle Quagmire had trodden ‘accidentally’ on his paw.
Happily, they all walked or, in the case of Whatshisname,limped, to an Austrian outdoor café in a four-sided outdoor square, where they all sat down and ordered lemon and lime cordial and ginger cake, which were freely available in Salzburg in 1964, were they not?
‘So, tell us all about this secret mission,’ said Daniel. ‘And the reason why you were kidnapped.’
‘I know it all!’ interrupted Old Hag, who had trailed behind them and was now making herself quite comfortable at their table. ‘Ask me! Ask me!’
‘Okay,’ said Betty, with a hint of a firm but tranquil shrug. ‘Tell us if you must.’
‘Well,’ said Old Hag, ‘your Uncle Quagmire is on a secret mission and he was forced to make use of his time machine to come here and save the world by stopping a stunt nun from getting preggers . . .’ Quite suddenly she stopped talking and looked around her. ‘Where are we, Quaggy? Is this Loughborough? Where am the nuns?’
‘No, it’s not Loughborough, silly Old Hag. We’re in Salzburg, near Austria,’ said Uncle Quagmire knowingly and almost reassuringly.
‘Are you sure it’s not the one near Brisbane, Uncle Quagmire?’ asked Daniel.
‘Stunt nun?’ enquired Betty.
‘Preggers?’ asked Amy. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Woof woof woof,’ moaned Whatshisname, licking his paw.
‘I thought you said you was going to Loughborough,’ said Old Hag. ‘I’m sure that you said . . .’
‘Anyway,’ interrupted Uncle Quagmire, ‘as I was saying, children, I was kidnapped and made to . . .’
‘Go back to nineteen sixty four!’ said Old Hag.
‘Look!’ said Uncle Quagmire to Old Hag, quite irritably for a man of his shoe size. ‘It’s
my
story and there are people out there waiting to know all about this, okay? Don’t you have to do something, go somewhere? Go off to the toilet or something like that?’
‘Oh blimey, ta very much, I knew there was something I had to do,’ mumbled Old Hag, as she scrambled off her chair and scurried away, bravely followed by Whatshisname who had been desperate to go since chapter six.
‘Right,’ said Uncle Quagmire, ‘now she’s gone, gather round the table and I’ll explain.’
‘Yes, let’s!’ said Amy, gathering round a little too quickly and making herself dizzy.
‘Well children, thanks for gathering round so obediently. Now, my
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