NOW THAT WISBECH HAS BEEN SAVED, AND ALL OUR PROBLEMS HAVE BEEN CONSIGNED TO THE BIN, Pickwick can return to being his positive and benign self. In this blissful mood, he would like to say how much he enjoys his visits to the town library. In terms of stock, certainly in the fiction section, it is a long way behind Big Sister in March, but P does not want anyone to think that he is complaining about March getting all the attention, because we have been told how wrong that is. Anyway, the ladies in Wisbech library are much more pleasant and helpful, and the library benefits from not having a skate park just outside its door. So, a big 'thank you' to everyone - another big plus for the town, P believes.
There is one small blemish on the horizon. A mole on the local planning and licensing committee has brought me disturbing news. The library is certainly one of the few premises in the town centre not to have a license to sell booze or lend money, and the brave entrepreneurs who sit in power over us are looking to put that right, as they think the library had become far too elitist anyway, with all those books and things. So here is a sneak preview of the revamped library as it will appear later in the spring.
PICKWICK WAS OUT AND ABOUT on his trusty charger this afternoon, taking photos of various places and things to do with Wisbech and The Great War. Knowing that there used to be a memorial plaque in the police station, he summoned up courage and knocked on the door to see if he could take a photo of it. A really pleasant officer took him upstairs to where the plaque now hangs in the rest-room.
WHILE WALKING ALONG TO THE REST ROOM, Pickwick had a heart-stopping moment as he passed an open office door, for who should be sitting at his desk, deep in thought was none other than Inspector Sissons! Now, P had been slightly critical of the Inspector's recent utterances on this blog, and had also written a tetchy letter to the Wisbech Standard on the matter. What if, at that very moment, the Inspector was reading the paper and plotting a savage revenge involving dawn raids on Pickwick Towers, orange suits and extradition to a Guatamalan prison hell-hole?
RESISTING THE TEMPTATION TO CHAT with the affable officer who had shown him the plaque, P made an excuse and left, thanking his maker that his bike was still safely chained to the police station railings.
WHAT A SILLY OLD BUFFER HE PROVED TO BE, for when he got home and examined the newspaper with trembling fingers, what should he find on the letters page, but ................NOTHING INCRIMINATING! Obviously anticipating problems, the editor had instantly, and very wisely, put the letter straight in the bin!
ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE, Pickwick will relate, tomorrow, the sad story of the son of a newspaper editor (no, not that one) who had strings pulled to fast-track him into a good regiment at the start of The Great War, and how the story was to end in heartbreak.
