The treasure hunt

I have a couple of posts to catch up with but I want to share with you this poem that came from cousin Ken in Cornwall.  I told him on the phone one day recently of my misadventure with my car, so this is his response!

Firstly though, I must put you in the picture….. Where I stay/live, we don’t have any dedicated parking area.  On my street the parking is restricted to 2 hours at a time, so I have to park in surrounding streets wherever I can find a space, which can mean one of several places, but usually on the road at the bottom of a pathway that leads to the High Street.

I often forget which place I have left it as I don’t use the car very often these days, but generally find it without too much bother … somewhere!  That is until about two weeks ago, when I went down to my usual spot, convinced I had parked it there last time (which was a week before!).  No car!  I think I told you of doing this before.   I hunted round all the places I normally use, but couldn’t find Sukie anywhere!  I searched and searched but with every second car a silver one it was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. 

Even a friend came round with me and we even checked the supermarket car park in case I had forgotten I had it and had walked home, as it’s not too far away.  Not a sign of Sukie’s number plate or flat back with deep back window/hatchback anywhere. 

Eventually I had to give in!  I phoned the local police and told them the story.  “Do you think it has been stolen?”  I was asked.  “Well, I don’t know!”  I told the operator, “ but I can’t find it in the usual places, so maybe it has been.”  She told me a policeman would be round to take details.  Several hours later he arrived.  (Policemen are all very young these days!).  He asked me lots of questions, and said he’d get the local patrol car to have a look round the town for it!  He must have been as good as his word because about twenty minutes after the constable had left, I got a phone call.  The police!  “Good news and bad news!” said the guy I was talking to!  “The good news is “that we’ve found your car!”  “Wow, great! Where was it?”    “In the Station car park!”  That’s the other end of the High Street, and was not somewhere I would ever think of leaving my car.  I couldn’t believe it!  “Is it alright?” I asked.    “Yes, it’s fine.  All secured and in a space in the carpark.  You  can come and pick it up anytime!”  Locked! But how did it get there then? I was blowed if I could work it out.  “So what’s the bad news?” I asked.   “You have a parking fine because it was there at the weekend without a ticket.”  (We only pay for  car park parking on a Saturday)

I was dumfoonert as we’d say in Scots.  Bewildered!  To this day I have no recollection of parking it in the car park.  Why would I have parked it in the main town car park at the opposite end of the High Street to home?  Who knows!  Anyway that’s the story. Now read Ken’s poem!  There’s a little poetic licence in it concerning timings but who cares!

She left the house on a treasure hunt – left the house at eight. – Did not get home till ten at night – Really in a sorry state. – The make and colour of what she sought – was imprinted in her mind – Although she sought the whole day through – what she sought she could not find.

It was not a classic car – like a Jaguar or Merc – It was something she used socially – as she did no longer work  (I’m retired) – Next day she rose up early – the local area she went round – By the time the dusk was falling – her desire had not been found.

Next day in desperation – she thought to seek some aid –Leave us with the details – A decision will be made – She gave the man the details – of the car she sought – and prayed the help she asked for – would not come to nought – Later on that evening – a knock upon her door – We have found what you are looking for  -- so be happy, everyone.

Just one thing, said the caller – not a whisper, more a bark –Next time do please remember – where you chose to park.

Isn’t that just so much fun?  I love it!  I just don’t think I’ll tell Ken he didn’t put enough’s worth of stamps on the envelope (it was a big card he had chosen to send, and recent regulations about pricing have confused a lot of people.) and I had to pay £1.09 to get it from the Post Office!  I’m glad I did though!

Talk again soon.