Saturday 27 June 2009

Thursday 25th June 2009 – There is no Escape

I have a map of the USA with all the Glasgows marked on it in green ink.  When I'm in a group, I can usually bring the subject round to my tour.  Then I pull the map, which is now getting a bit tattered, out of my wallet and show everyone where I'm going. 

People are clearly flattered that I take so much trouble to inform them about my activities.  They are often too shy to ask for themselves.  I'm getting very smooth at the explanation: I can now talk for quite long periods about it.  People sometimes just slip silently away, so as not to interrupt my flow.

But I should have kept the information away from the grown-up ladies.  Last night, as I toured a number of the local establishments, testing the quality of their microbrews, I spotted a couple of ladies who were clearly following me.  I expect they were reporting back to some central control, but their radios were very well-concealed.

 I finally challenged them.  They said they only wanted to play pool with me.  But I know how these innocent games can end up: before I know where I am, we'll be back to the dreaded butt-darts.

I graciously let them beat me, then slipped unostentatiously away while they were basking in their glory.  I made it home without them picking up my scent again.

 

I now realise the map was a mistake.  They all know where I'm going.  I have discussed the matter with the local police chief.  He suggested I leave town as soon as possible.  He said he'd heard about my map, but he was very reluctant to look at it himself.  He thought it might be a good idea to avoid anywhere called 'Glasgow' for a while. 

I shall go south soon, avoiding the main roads.  I'll spend a few days planning my exit strategy.  In the meantime, I'll stay indoors with the curtains pulled, and only go out after dark.  I'd never have thought of the darkened room myself, but the police chief suggested it.  He's obviously got a lot of experience of grown-up ladies.  I'm glad he's on my side.  I shall keep him informed about my whereabouts, that will please him.

 

What worries me most of all is that my next stop is a railroad siding in the middle of the desert.  I had a dream last night which was like the opening scene from "Once Upon a Time in the West", with two grown-up ladies chasing flies round a rusty, creaking windmill.  I will call the sheriff and advise him on what to look out for.

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