The parents are back, been on the phone twice already, bless em, I love them dearly, but the silence was nice whilst it lasted.
Living in a sleepy Somerset village can get pretty mundane, so when a body is found in the local river, all hell breaks loose. As dark and sick as it seems, the gossip and excitement level increases ten fold, it's all anyone can talk about, which I suppose I should be thankful for, if it happened often it wouldn't be of interest, the mayhem goes to prove just how rare an occurrence something like this is.
The theories flying around are from one end of the scale to another, murder, suicide, cult activity, when the truth be told it's more than likely one of the many locals who likes their cider a little too much. Whatever the story, the talk won't die down for a long, long time around here, petty speculation is rife, there are a lot of people that need to venture out of the county once in a while, maybe then they would realise that the world doesn't end a mile past the Bl@ck Swan Inn.
Yesterday, some flash git in a BMW gave me a V sign because I dared to pull around a car when he was coming towards me, doing at least 50 in a 30mph limit and how could I ever contemplate inconveniencing someone of immense class and caliber. When the hell did someone last use the V sign for gods sake? That went out with the ark didn't it? He may as well have shook his fist at me like an angry farmer who's caught kids pinching his apples.
I had enormous pleasure in showing him how an insult should be done by mouthing 'fuck off', whilst giving him the birdie. I can only hope he took notes.
