Continuing the epic tale of A Blogmas Carol.
If you have been reading in sequence, you will already have visited
YOU ARE HERE
What am I?
Where am I?
Everything is dark, and I am surrounded by metal. There are muffled sounds of laughter and jollity and a faint sound of music.
Suddenly my world [whatever it is] is thrown into chaos as my metal space rises into the air and I am shaken around violently. There are loud sound of tearing and light floods into my world.
I realise that I am in the cab of a clockwork railway engine, but I am sitting on the roof, as the engine is upside down. I am still being shaken all over the place as the wrapping is removed from whatever I’m in, and I crack my head on a sharp corner. I am getting annoyed.
I peer out the window, and there is a snotty kid looking at me with a big grin on his face. I would take an instant dislike to him, but he looks so happy. He carefully places me on some track, and I bang my head on the controls again.
This is more like it!
The kid sticks a big key in the side of the engine, and winds it up.
“Come on, Kid!” I yell, “Give it loads!”
I don’t know whether he hears me or not, but he winds the clockwork to the full, and pulls the key.
This is my moment. I always wanted to drive a train, and here I am, on the footplate of a fully wound engine, and ahead of me the track runs off into the distance across the carpet.
I release the brake and open the regulator to its fullest. With a roar, we head off, under a chair and out the other side. I can hear people laughing and cheering above the roar of the wind in my ears. This is great.
As I rattle under the dining table, I suddenly realist that the stupid little prat has put a sharp bend in the line. It’s too late to brake so I just hope for the best. Sure enough, the bend is too sharp and I take to the air.
Luckily, the dog is having a quiet nap near the track, and we land squarely on his stomach. It is a nice soft landing but the dog isn’t too pleased to have a locomotive land on him. He retires to the kitchen in a sulk.
The little boy is laughing so much that I actually begin to worry about him. He shouts in a high voice “This is the best Christmas present EVER!”
I forgive him his rotten engineering, especially as he places the engine back on the track and hooks on a load of carriages.
This time I’m a little more cautious, but soon we are barrelling along the track.
Once again I feel the exhilaration of speed and revel in the click of the wheels on the track. I knock a Christmas cracker flying that someone had left lying by the track. The carriages behind me add to the noise and I open the throttle a bit more.
We go roaring through the doorway out into the hall.
Too late I realise the little bugger has run out of track and there is nowhere to go, except full tilt into the bottom of the stairs.
Ah well! I always wanted to drive my own train, so as Christmas’ go, it’s a good one.
With a glorious crash, we pile into the step and carriages fly in all directions.
I am thrown into the air.
I wonder where I’ll land?