Castle Aching

[RedGemAlchemist]

Personally I find that 'vague' is a good thing when it comes to the pre-group era.

I'm just glad I got my time period right and was writing as the right Baronet Bradleigh.

[Edwardian]

Mr. T. Doolight

The Shepherds Port Grand Hotel

(Public Bar, oak settle to the left of the hearth)

 

By Hand

 

S. Penworthy, Esq.

Secretary to the Rt . Hon. The Lord Erstwhile

Aching Hall

Norfolk 

Dear Sir,

 

His Lordship directs me to convey his greetings to you, and to express his hopes that this epistle will find you in good health and gainful employ.

 

I am further to inform you that, sensible of the signal services that you have, in past times, rendered to the Aching Hall Estate, the West Norfolk Farmers Association, the Norfolk Fish Oil & Guano Company, Norfolk Oilfields Limited and the West Norfolk Railway Company, to the almost discernable benefit of the local populace and the general increase in the trade and prosperity of the District, his Lordship expresses the hope that these various undertakings may depend upon the retention of your services in the future and that, if you do not find yourself too inconvenienced by the request, you will kindly present yourself at Aching Hall at your earliest convenience in order to discuss a Scheme of Improvement that concerns the erection of such edifices of a triangular nature as it may please his Lordship to commission from the Metropolitan Pyramid Company.

 

In the meanwhile, it is his Lordship's most earnest hope that you will do him the honour of accepting the purse herewith in the hands of the bearer of this letter as an advance upon your anticipated expenses.

 

Your Hon. & Obediant servant,

 

Sedulousity Penworthy

[wagonman]

If you're going to have cyclists in and around Castle Aching the local hostelry might need one of these on an outside wall.

 

http://www.wingedwheels.info

 

 

 

 

My local pub has one of those on the wall. It's a very old establishment that was demolished and totally rebuilt in c1904. Still catering for tourists on wheels, though they're more likely to be on 4 wheels than 2 these days. http://www.thegeorgehotelatcley.co.uk

[RedGemAlchemist]

Eustace Mis-Senden

West Norfolk Railway Co. Ltd

Achingham Town Station Offices

Station Road

Achingham

Norfolk

Baronet Bradleigh,

 

I have been informed by my special agents operating throughout Cambridgeshire, Norfolk and the County-to-which-one-durst-not-go that you have been sending correspondence to and have been receiving the same from a Mr O'Doolight, a one-time resident of the London Borough of Paltry. Whilst I appreciate your requirements for a civil engineer, may I warn you that both Mr O'Doolight and his company are not to be trusted with the construction of railway buildings. The structures erected at Wolfringham are not only unfit for purpose on account of their shape, but on account of their poor construction from London Brick. The buildings have proven to be a liability for the company, and should you be determined to have pyramid structures erected at Elmtree Heath the West Norfolk company hereby offer you the structures free from all charges, besides those for removal. Indeed, the company may even be willing to pay these on the behalf of the KLR.

 

On the grounds that the following remains unrecorded besides in this letter, I hereby offer my draughtsmanship services to the Kelsby Light Railway, free from all charges. I wish this to remain unrecorded for fear of causing upset and inconvenience for my current employer (and his association with the Great Eastern company). Whilst I may struggle with structures for your company, I am more than willing to attempt their drawing up. I also offer my services to your locomotive department.

 

Kindest Regards,

 

Eustace Missenden

David Bradleigh

Kelsby Light Railway Co. Ltd

Hewe Manor

Manor Road

Hewe

Telham

Ely

Cambridgeshire

 

Mr Mis-Senden,

 

Thank you for that enlightening piece of information. Maybe it is a good thing that you intercepted my post, even if the thought of you doing so fills me with quiet rage. I am a man who likes his privacy and I feel that whom I converse with is, generally, none of your damn business. Such nosing doesn't help but remind me of my late wife (God rest her soul.)

My intention for the station at Elmtree Heath was more something of the Gothic persuasion. I was in London recently admiring W. H. Barlow's masterpiece at Saint Pancras and thought to myself that I would like something along that bent.

 

Your offer of help us is gladly accepted my man. Don't fret as this will be kept purely between us. I'm in enough hot water with the Great Eastern for daring to try building a railway in their domain without their say to risk exacerbating the situation. Your draughtsmanship will be much appreciated.

Take care my friend.

 

Yours sincerely,

 

Col. David Bradleigh, CBE, 2nd. Baronet Bradleigh, CEO and CME of the Kelsby Light Railway Co. Ltd.

 

P.S: Remember the game, Eustace.

P.S.S: By the by, do you know of any good nannies I can hire? Thomas requires one. Young Caroline is getting to be quite a handful. My chest does swell with pride though; it seems my granddaughter knows what she likes, just like her grandfather. They grow up so fast.

Edited April 5, 2018 by RedGemAlchemist

[sem34090]

S. Penworthy, Esq.

Secretary to the Rt . Hon. The Lord Erstwhile

Aching Hall

Norfolk

 

Eustace Missenden
West Norfolk Railway Co. Ltd
Achingham Town Station Offices
Station Road
Achingham

Norfolk

Sir,

 

May I request, on behalf of all employees of the West Norfolk Railway's operations and engineering departments that Mr O'Doolight be no longer involved with this railway in any capacity. I appreciate that his Lordship has been of a Philanthropic mind of late, but inviting such un-called for working practices to return to the railway is really a step too far down the incorrect path. I gathered via your letter (which one of my special agents intercepted during its journey down the branch from Castle Aching to Achingham before transfer to the Great Eastern Station and onward transit to Liverpool Street.) that his Lordship has requested the apparent 'Services' of Mr O'Doolight once again and I therefore fear for both his Lordship's sanity and for the safety of the local populace.

 

I feel that the parish rectors would profit rather much from the influx of funerals. This may seem to be a rather extreme view, but one must remember what occurred at Flitching Junction in 1897, whilst this O'Doolight was still heavily influential in the railway's affairs. I seem to recall the casualty toll being well into double-figures.

 

Nevertheless I hope that his Lordship can find a place for Mr O'Doolight other than in the ancient priest-hole beneath Aching Hall.

 

Your Hon. & Obediant servant,

 

Eustace Missenden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[sem34090]

Baronet David Bradleigh
Kelsby Light Railway Co. Ltd
Hewe Manor
Manor Road 
Hewe
Telham 
Ely
Cambridgeshire

 

Eustace Missenden
West Norfolk Railway Co. Ltd
Achingham Town Station Offices
Station Road
Achingham

Norfolk

 

 

Sir,

 

I do apologise for the intercepting of your correspondence, but it is a matter of course for this company I am afraid. My agents monitor the correspondence of all high-ranking figures in the East Anglian railway world. I am sure you would be most entertained as to exactly what Lord Claud Hamilton has been 'getting up to', but I fear I would lose my position and all respect if I was to tell you.

 

I fear that I cannot 'remember the game' off hand, but am nonetheless delighted to accept the appointment to your company as a secondary draughtsman. As such I request that your exact requirements are passed to be by way of a telegram, or (as some in my other line of work choose to) by private message.

 

I await further correspondence!

 

Your Hon. & Obediant servant,

 

Eustace Missenden - Draughtsman (West Norfolk Railway, Kelsby Light Railway, Wimbledon & Sutton Railway and Littlehampton, Goring & Worthing Railway)

 

Postscript: At great risk of putting the Parish 'Thread' off of its proper topic once more, may I recommend one of my agents to you as a Nanny for the children. You are to refer to her by the name of 'Mary Poppins', though I will tell you now that her true name is Julie Andrews. Julie will respond to either name, but her real name is only to be used in times of extreme emergency as I do not wish for her identity to be revealed for fear of my undercover operations being exposed.

Edited April 5, 2018 by sem34090

[Hroth]

Actually, I was drawing parallels, but I think o’Doolight is drawing a few pyramids beyond the sheep.

What about the girl in the middle who appears to be holding a basket of brussels sprouts?  In fact, the entire scene reminds me of that old Music Hall favourite, "She sits amongst the cabbages and peas".

 

Interestingly "She sits..." was associated with Marie Lloyd, who also performed "Oh Mr Porter", so there's a decent railway connection there!

[RedGemAlchemist]

Eustace Missenden
West Norfolk Railway Co. Ltd
Achingham Town Station Offices
Station Road
Achingham

Norfolk

 

Baronet David Bradleigh

Kelsby Light Railway Co. Ltd
Hewe Manor
Manor Road 
Hewe
Telham 
Ely
Cambridgeshire

 

Mr. Missenden

 

Excellent news. I look forward to seeing your work. And Your news on Lord Hamilton's work... intrigues me. Bit early for that yet. Not even finished laying the permanent way yet. Only just got to Alnerwick. The two locomotives we have at this time will be fine for the time being. You will be kept informed however.

Yours sincerely, 

Col. David Bradleigh, CBE, 2nd. Baronet Bradleigh, CEO and CME of the Kelsby Light Railway Co. Ltd.

P.S: Excellent. You know where to send her. Much thanks from Thomas and Elizabeth.

[sem34090]

As an aside, and you strictly must not record my saying of this, I will say only that Lord Hamilton's business is an interesting affair, one which could damage both his personal relationships and his political/commercial ones.

 

I refuse to say any more on his subject, but those romantic letters did not appear to be addressed to his wife... but as my agents are not supposed to be viewing the mail at any rate I will not disclose further details. I also fear that the 'Men in Ultramarine' are onto my little scheme now.

 

Miss 'Poppins' will be dispatched to you, the good Colonel, by air tomorrow morning. I would be grateful if you could report of her arrival. Also, please be aware that her singing may cause some unusual side effects and that she can seemingly master some aspects of witchcraft. Please also note that she is involved in a relationship with a local sweep who may appear from time-to-time. He is actually of noble origin, being the son of one of the other local gentry, and this can be told by his poor rendition of a generic 'working class' accent. He's a nice lad, but can also be liable to sing and dance. Please do not be alarmed if you see your children on the roof or covered in chimney-soot.

 

Good Day, Sir.

 

Disclaimer: This is all pure fiction as far as I am aware. I don't recall seeing any references to an affair during a brief reading-up on the (1905) GER Chairman.

Edited April 5, 2018 by sem34090

[RedGemAlchemist]

Disclaimer: This is all pure fiction as far as I am aware. I don't recall seeing any references to an affair during a brief reading-up on the (1905) GER Chairman.

Sem, we are writing letters on a forum thread as two characters who are not only fictional but mine is supposed to have been dead for some 90 years by the time my actual layout is set. I think they can tell it's fiction 

Edited April 5, 2018 by RedGemAlchemist

[sem34090]

B*gger that Alchemist! My cover is blown... 

 

Goodnight Mr Bradleigh... 

 

 

It was all good fun though... that said, we have still yet to hear back from Mr O'Doolight, or 'Kevin' as he also known...

 

Back to reality, your PM has been received and will be answered to... in a moment...

[Nearholmer]

Certain difficulties, have, I fear, arisen.

 

Early, very early indeed, this morning, I accompanied Mr O’Doolight on one of his extended commutes. Having alighted from the last Up Stopper of yesterday evening at Liverpool Street, he retired to a nearby public house, where he spent some time “propping up the bar”, before returning to the station (where I joined him) to catch the very first Down Stopper of the day into Norfolk. The journey was long, uncomfortable, and exceptionally tedious, involving so many changes of train that I had lost count before midday, and why it was necessary to compass the entire coastline of the County, going round the sun to meet the moon so to speak, I can only speculate, but early this evening we arrived, at long, long last at Shepherd’s Port. Mr O’Doolight was, by this juncture, fully refreshed of mind and body, having slept soundly almost throughout, waking only briefly for each of the many changes of train, and once to purchase a large pie and a pint of ale at some isolated junction that was, fortuitously, equipped with a dining room. I, on the other hand, and as you might well understand, was exhausted of the very last drop of vitality, my entire being craving rest in an immobile bed.

 

As the train expired at the platform, if such it may be termed, Mr O’Doolight leapt down, simultaneously instructing me very firmly: “Stay there, I must collect my letters! Do not, on any account, let the train go without me!”. My soul sank to new, and previously unfathomed, depths, as I realised that he intended that we should repeat the entire cycle of rail-borne misery in reverse, and without pause.

 

When he returned a few minutes later, he was brandishing an already-opened letter, and a substantial sum in notes, and was very evidently in higher spirits than he has been for a long time. “Aha! I told you, I told you!” he announced, slapping the notes down upon the seat, “A first class return!”. I looked about, and my eyes confirmed what my backside was already telling me: that we remained in the same dreary, un-upholstered, third class cupboard in which we had arrived. “Well, we’d better get ourselves along to the next carriage then.”, I said, eagerly. “No, no, you don’t understand. It is I that am to make a return, of a first class kind, to my previous station in life!”. My bafflement was complete.

 

As he fairly bounced with excitement upon the bench, Mr O’Doolight pulled a further envelope from his pocket, smaller, and of far lesser quality than that which lay open beside him. “Now, what have we here?”. He squinted at the pencilled address, and I noticed that the letter bore no stamp. Concern rose instantly within me, for I have seen him receive notes of this kind before, and, although he believes me fully ignorant of their source, I am well aware that they come from a very furtive character named Mordant, to whom he forwards, when circumstances permit or require, either coded instructions or, small, carefully wrapped packets of gold coin. He split the envelope, fished out a mean sheet of paper and read attentively for a few moments, a few moments during which his countenance altered from vernal sunshine to bitterest winter blizzard. He crushed the sheet between his fingers, masticating it until his knuckles were white. Then he rose, and turned to me.

 

“It would not be favourable to you if you were to become involved in this matter. This communication,” he said, holding out the tiny ball of paper in his palm, “has conveyed to me intelligence of a vicious calumny against my reputation, perpetrated by a man whose position in life ought to have made him fit for better conduct.” He rotated his hand and allowed the paper to fall to the floor, where it bounced once and rolled under the seat. “It is something that even in the autumn of my years I cannot permit to go .....” here he hesitated, clearly scouring his mind for a suitable word. “........ unresolved.”

 

Now came my greatest surprise. He thumped hard on the partition between our compartment and the next, and within moments two familiar, and I have to say rightly feared, persons appeared on the platform, staring in at us, having evidently been within inches of us throughout. “What is it yer need guvnor?” Asked one. “Hassistance wiv this gentleman, is it?” Asked the other, turning his leering face toward me, and cracking his knuckles. These men I knew to be the McGibbon Twins, and how Mr O’Doolight came to be associated with such notable ruffians I cannot say, save perhaps that the location of his workshops at Paltry Circus places them in proximity to some of the foulest alleyways of the East End of London. “No, no, not this one.” His tone was that of a man attempting to placate a particularly vicious dog, a dog that he owned, but could barely call to heel. “No, no indeed. No. Now, are you... ahem ..... Er ...... equipped for business boys?”. There seemed to be a tiny hint of his late-father’s accent in his voice as he asked this, a distant thrill of the Galtees. The two taught faces tightened further, the two pairs of eyes narrowed, and the racketing gulls outside ceased their cries. From somewhere below the compartment came a metallic tick-ticking, followed by a pneumatic sigh. “Well, we have business to transact tonight alright. Let’s be about it!”.

 

He stuffed the letter and notes from the seat into his pocket, shoved his broad-brimmed hat vigorously down onto his head, and stepped from the train, slamming the door behind him, and twisting the handle firmly. I attempted to follow, but the lock was devilish stiff. The guard’s whistle shrilled and the train creaked into motion as I leant from the window. Looking back along the platform I could see Mr O’Doolight, walking between the two attack-dogs, into the twilight that was closing on whatever their grim business was.

 

I collapsed back onto the seat for a moment, then, remembering the paper, crouched down and retrieved it from among the other dusty detritus. Once unfolded, it was exceedingly difficult to read the words written on it. The hand was crabbed, and the soft pencil with which it had been written was smudged all about. I struck a Vesta, and even with the aid of that and strenuous efforts of eyesight, I could only make out one word, and that meant nothing to me, save that it was a village in Buckinghamshire: Missenden.

[sem34090]

O'Doolight

 

Collect notes - Castle Aching, Noon.

 

Return to Paltry by nine o'clock. Leave companion, Nearholmer, in compartment.

 

Agents will escort you to me from Paltry.

 

Missenden

[Northroader]

That was so beautifully written, as the situation unfolded, that I really felt a sensation in my pysche, pray accept this pyramid attached to a Norfolk castle as a token of my esteem:

 

[sem34090]

It's the pre-groupers literary corner for you, my friend!

 

I really think some of us here could group together and begin writing a 'proper' story based on the various characters that we've created. Who knows? Maybe some day it will happen. I have a lot of free time coming this summer, sooo...

[Hroth]

Extracts from a review in the "Castle Aching Argus and Weekly Visiter":

 

".... In addition, the subplot of this epistolatory novel has echos of the attempts by the legendary Ankh-Morpork Post Office, to prevent the consumption of letters in their postboxes by slugs as each attempt to achieve rectification only exacerbates the problem..."

 

"... a right riviting read, unstoppable!"

 

Following the review is a note soliciting applications for the post of Literarary Reviewer due to the sudden ill-health of the previous incumbent.

[Donw]

We had one of those enamelled signs when I was a boy. I think it may have been attached to the rear of the car when my Uncle got married (he and his wife were keen cyclists). He had borrowed the car from our dad and the sign was left in the boot. No idea where it went.

   From the above the 110 years ago seems to apply to the cast iron plaques not the enamelled ones.

 

Don

[runs as required]

All fery interestingk!

Are there any other CA followers who are also devotees of the writings of W G Sebalds ? Until his death on the lethal stretch of the A11 south of Norwich he was one of the Creative Writing group at UEA Norwich.

My Norwich sister-in-law who knew him, has given me two of his books, (she knows of my dirty secret: railway enthusiasm)

The Rings of Saturn 

is quite literally a ramble - a walking tour around the East Anglian coast, a diary recording his thoughts. featuring strongly is Somerleyton Hall Lowestoft , the extraordinary High Victorian creation of Sit Morton Peto the railway Contractor/Banker - and also Thorpeness (with its House in the Clouds)  an Edwardian  ideal settlement encouraged by the GER with slightly darkish 'strength through joy' associations

Austerlitz

is his final novel, best read over a lengthy period. It centres around a historian specialising in railway architecture - particularly Liverpool Street station and the adjoining Great Eastern Hotel (Claud Hamilton Rooms). It starts with a chance meeting in a refreshment room at Antwerp station, beautifully described.

It is like seriously dense German salami, best sliced sehr thinly.

 

dh

[Marly51]

It's the pre-groupers literary corner for you, my friend!

 

I really think some of us here could group together and begin writing a 'proper' story based on the various characters that we've created. Who knows? Maybe some day it will happen. I have a lot of free time coming this summer, sooo...

I have too many projects, but enjoy reading the literary meanderings here!

 

Marlyn

[RedGemAlchemist]

I have too many projects, but enjoy reading the literary meanderings here!

 

Marlyn

Cheers. Nice to see my English Literature qualification isn't going to waste.

[Nearholmer]

A further short report, although I confess that it contains very little illuminating information, for the simple reason that I am in possession of next to none.

 

The train in which I was confined limped a few miles before halting at a wayside station, where with the aid of the guard I was able to open the door and climb down, an act which I regretted almost the moment the train departed, for I found myself in a most inhospitable spot. Darkness was rapidly closing-in, and the only light that I could see appeared to be a considerable distance off, on higher ground, while in the opposite direction I could sense, beyond a small thicket of trees, the open marsh and the sea. I was completely alone.

 

I will pass over the following six or seven hours, during which I explored, by blundering into, several water-filled ditches, a firmly locked religious shrine, two docile ovine, and the entire length of the railway line back to Shepherd's Port, largely in complete darkness due to the slim moon continually darting behind large clouds, and tell you simply that I awoke, not an hour ago, in Mr O'Doolight's old room at the Grand Hotel, badly troubled by an injury to my right knee, which I must have acquired during my tramp, although I cannot recall how.

 

Mr O'Doolight is nowhere to be found, and the old couple who serve as the hotel's entire complement of staff inform me that he has not used his room in many months, since they were prevailed open by the owner of the hotel to press for payment of long-outstanding bills. They are evidently as anxious for his return as I, because his residence was the only remaining reason for their winter employment, there typically being no casual visitors from September to April, and precious few at other times. The old couple can, or perhaps will, tell me nothing of the McGibbon Twins, denying all knowledge of them, while trying very hard to interest me in the antics of a seagull outside, but they are able to confirm that Mordant, or at least a person fitting his description, left post for Mr O'Doolight yesterday at about three in the afternoon, arriving and departing on a very powerful motor-bicycle.

 

Since there is no organised transport to be had in or out of Shepherd's Port except by the West Norfolk Railway, there not even being a carter, my conclusions thus far are confined to the following: first, that I have ahead of me a very long wait for the next train, it being the same evening service that I was trapped in yesterday; secondly, that whatever Mr O'Doolight and The McGibbon Twins were bent on almost certainly involved the use of a rowboat, there being many left lying on the shingle; and, thirdly, that since rowing a boat to Buckinghamshire would be a lengthy and strenuous exercise, beyond even the McGibbons, Missenden must be part of the address by which MrO'Doolight was intended to reach Mordant.

 

Accordingly, I have resolved that, after a decent luncheon, to which I am very much looking forward, I shall procure the services of a boatman familiar with the many creeks hereabouts, and set-off in pursuit of my friend and his dark companions.

[Edwardian]

A further short report, although I confess that it contains very little illuminating information, for the simple reason that I am in possession of next to none.

 

The train in which I was confined limped a few miles before halting at a wayside station, where with the aid of the guard I was able to open the door and climb down, an act which I regretted almost the moment the train departed, for I found myself in a most inhospitable spot. Darkness was rapidly closing-in, and the only light that I could see appeared to be a considerable distance off, on higher ground, while in the opposite direction I could sense, beyond a small thicket of trees, the open marsh and the sea. I was completely alone.

 

I will pass over the following six or seven hours, during which I explored, by blundering into, several water-filled ditches, a firmly locked religious shrine, two docile ovine, and the entire length of the railway line back to Shepherd's Port, largely in complete darkness due to the slim moon continually darting behind large clouds, and tell you simply that I awoke, not an hour ago, in Mr O'Doolight's old room at the Grand Hotel, badly troubled by an injury to my right knee, which I must have acquired during my tramp, although I cannot recall how.

 

Mr O'Doolight is nowhere to be found, and the old couple who serve as the hotel's entire complement of staff inform me that he has not used his room in many months, since they were prevailed open by the owner of the hotel to press for payment of long-outstanding bills. They are evidently as anxious for his return as I, because his residence was the only remaining reason for their winter employment, there typically being no casual visitors from September to April, and precious few at other times. The old couple can, or perhaps will, tell me nothing of the McGibbon Twins, denying all knowledge of them, while trying very hard to interest me in the antics of a seagull outside, but they are able to confirm that Mordant, or at least a person fitting his description, left post for Mr O'Doolight yesterday at about three in the afternoon, arriving and departing on a very powerful motor-bicycle.

 

Since there is no organised transport to be had in or out of Shepherd's Port except by the West Norfolk Railway, there not even being a carter, my conclusions thus far are confined to the following: first, that I have ahead of me a very long wait for the next train, it being the same evening service that I was trapped in yesterday; secondly, that whatever Mr O'Doolight and The McGibbon Twins were bent on almost certainly involved the use of a rowboat, there being many left lying on the shingle; and, thirdly, that since rowing a boat to Buckinghamshire would be a lengthy and strenuous exercise, beyond even the McGibbons, Missenden must be part of the address by which MrO'Doolight was intended to reach Mordant.

 

Accordingly, I have resolved that, after a decent luncheon, to which I am very much looking forward, I shall procure the services of a boatman familiar with the many creeks hereabouts, and set-off in pursuit of my friend and his dark companions.

 

Wonderful stuff.  Witty, with a suitable undertone of menace. Looking forward to the next instalment.

 

It reminds me of the Riddle of the Fens, the spoof sequel to the Erskine Childers novel that I once resolved to write about a German invasion of the Wash in the early 1900s!   

[sem34090]

N. Earholmer

 

In the East your sun will rise.

Beneath it there a strange surprise.

That will fill with dread your mind.

And make you run from humankind.

Between Lowestoft and Hull.

North West of Birchoverham Staithe.

The Western sunset you shall not see.

Meet. Or Meat?

 

Missenden

Edited April 6, 2018 by sem34090

[TheQ]

My Dear Mr Missendon,

 For those who know an love dear Norfolk,

We know that we shall see,

The Sunset on the Sea,

for we are different folk,

 For at Sunny Hunny the sun doth set in the west

 For Norfolk is the Best.

We have  both east and west coasts you see.

[sem34090]

Q

 

Message received. Understood.

 

-. --- .-- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / -.-- --- ..- / -.- .. -. -.. .-.. -.-- / .--. .-.. . .- ... . / -... ..- --. --. . .-. / --- ..-. ..-. / .- -. -.. / ... .- -.-- / -. --- / -- --- .-. . / --- ..-. / - .... .. ... .-.-.-

 

Missenden