Date: Sun, 8 Aug 1999 18:10:12 -0000
From: Eleanor Green
To: Louise
Cc:
Subject: Cornwall Gossip Update

Well hello again, you.

And here we are, we happy band of brothers, and cursed are you in London now abed, because you are missing out on all the festivities. And let me tell you, as we await the interplanetary day of reckoning the mortals are certainly restless.

Oh, where to begin... well already one little secret has been caught in the headlights. I was unpacking and going over some stuff late last night and heard someone creeping about upstairs. Everyone else had climbed the wooden hill to bedfordshire, so, in the manner of someone in a horror film I went to 'just check'. (footnote: why is it when you watch a horror film and some hapless hero suggests splitting up to investigate, one is happy to sit there and berate the TV because of their blatant stupidity, but when you hear a strange noise in the middle of the night you just have to 'go and see', despite knowing what you know? Must be something innate and irrepressible in our make up. Akin to waving a torch around the cave entrance perhaps, making ourselves simulaneously predator and prey. I wonder if any other species is so designed...). Anyway, I get to the landing and who should I see but Mary coming out of Tom's room. Spicy, huh? It's clearly meant to be a secret because I think she thought she saw me see her (does that make sense? Like trying to describe people taking pictures of each other or mirrors within mirrors) and she practically leapt to the ceiling.

One to me, then, and one side of the sexual polyhedron I'm looking forward to uncovering, now exposed to the elements.

I dallied a while longer, hoping for an entire night of French farce bed hopping, but the rest of the band seemed to be staying put, so I called it a night - slightly disappointed, but perhaps things will pick up soon. I must see if we can invite the vicar round to tea. I wonder if Harry is a long lost daughter in disguise... Can things get any spicier I wonder? I have a strong nose for these things, as you know - and it smells more delights on the menu.

Have started on some work today - visible work anyway - persuaded Ray, as a local, to show me around the village of Mousetrappe. Seemed like a reasonable excuse. And he didn't take much coaxing, either. To be fair, though, he obviously doesn't think much of the others, apart from Mary, so perhaps I'm just the best of a bad lot. He spent an inordinate amount of time complaining about Tom for my liking - he must know what I now do, too, about him and Mary - which suggests that he may only have eyes for someone else - well, we shall see. Methinks that under all his bluster about Tom something else lies dormant. How would he react if he knew about their bower of bliss?

Got to see the locality, at least... which has its well worn, craggy highlights - rather like David Attenborough in that respect. None of the locals seem predisposed to talk to us, though. Sense that word has filtered about Harry's 'game' (as his proposed eclipse rite shall now be known), and they're not happy - and there's more in this mood than an aversion to misinformed Londoners coming down and gambolling about in Celtic Twilight... there's something here too - the nose doth twitcheth in extremis. I must burrow down deep to find out more about this place. I asked Ray, in the sweetest possible manner, if he could find someone who would actually talk to me, and he said he'd try. Bless him. Stop laughing.

Anyway, we shall see how things develop. Starting to enjoy myself as you might be able to tell.

How's Piewacket? Is she alright? Tell her I'm missing her (yeah, right, you really want to embarrass yourself by talking to my cat). Ok, just feed her.

See you soon

E.