Can’t a gal (ok…old olden days lady) stalk through her garden in a very old bikini smacking cricket bats together without being arrested?
“Don’t make me the mad woman in a too tiny ‘this still fits me and I wore this on my honeymoon’ struggling bikini smashing noisy cricket bats together …who is…about to be…arrested by the police”… I faltered in my magpie abuse as a police car and van arrived outside my gate.
In ten years I have seen one police car here, this was unprecedented. I knew that my bikini was embarrassingly illegal, I knew that me smashing two cricket bats together to scare off the magpies who were plundering another nest might have looked a little odd, but to be arrested? By so many policemen? Goodness, the bikini was worse than I originally thought.
“Can you tell us where Handsfield Farm is please?” asked a very polite boy policeman who kept his eyes firmly on the mental jumping, barking sproodle dog.
Now I shall be arrested for indecency, possession of dangerous weapons (both cricket bats have been heavily linseeded) and a dangerous dog. Excellent. This isn’t quite how I envisioned that the day would pan out when I set up tea for two under the roses.
But hold on! “HANDSFIELD Farm?! Oh yes, of course officer, they are terrible bad people, you must hurry! Turn left at the bridleway, you will find them no problem at all. Terrible awful people -be quick, who knows if they are already revving up the getaway tractor!!! Goodbye now! Good luck with your arrestments”.
Breathing a sigh of relief (a small one, the 15 year old bikini wasn’t up to the lung expelling relief that I actually felt) my Miss Marple instincts crept in. What could they want with The Handsfields? They seem like perfectly pleasant people. Always a good morning and a wave from their tractor, my mind started spinning, were they the shed stealers? There have been a number of outbuildings broken into recently at the bottom of the lane. Or horse wrangling? (I am not sure why that popped into my finely honed detective mind but I may have been gazing at the horses in the field opposite). Hmmm is it allowed to ask a policeman why? Should I explain my close affinity to Miss Marple? That it was I that solved the mystery of the missing Hermes Darren? (The Hollyhocks ate him) – no, probably best to keep that quiet, best not to have a murder investigation on my imminent crime sheet as well as indecent exposure.
I waved the flotilla of forensic investigators off..ok it was just a normal police van and car and sat down under the roses to inhale their heady scent along with the scent of freedom before plunging into my next mystery.
This is not quite the quiet life I expected when I buried myself away in the countryside. But it seems that detecting is my cross to bear.
Have a wonderful weekend x