accompanied by what he called his female assistants. Legend had it that he was buried in the grounds of Whitby Abbey and as it was nearly dusk and vampires only come out at night an ideal opportunity to meet him had arrived. I had read a little of these creatures and although I had come to the conclusion they were figments of the deranged minds of Byron and Polydori the abbey silhouette by the evening sky on the cliff above cast a little doubt in mine.
Legend also told there were hundred steps up to the abbey from the quay on which it was said no one had counted more than ninety-nine. For if you found the last one a local superstition recounted the devil would appear and snatch you away. Sean said he had found there was a hundred steps every time he had climbed up to the abbey but so as not to invoke 'Old Nick' he had always stopped counting at ninety-nine. How Jill coped with his blarney I do not know.
J.
When we got to the top we wandered around the graveyard looking for signs of Dracula. We eventually found one that had a large skull and crossbones on it and all agreed that was where he was buried and we could desist from looking around furtively in the shadows for him. We were about to return when I noticed the Methodist chapel behind the wall and suggested before we depart we have a quick look inside.
Inside the chapel it was now quite dark but we entered none the less; our footsteps echoing on the wood and tiled floor. At the end of the hall we noticed what looked like coffins on trestle tables. As we approached I counted four and that they were open for the lids were carefully stacked against the wall. At this point normal people stop, make excuses about remembering a previous engagement and leave immediately. Not Sean. He continued.
"I must have a look.” And he walked across the floor and looked in the first box. He then turned with an expression I imagine he had when he first saw the apparition of the Pope on the bedroom wall of his grandfather's house in Kerry and then to reinforce what we already feared shouted at the top of his voice, “They’re empty!"
Nothing would change our opinion that the Count and his female servants had risen from those coffins and we're now lose amongst us. We left and walked very fast, no we ran back to the steps. I am sure there were more than a hundred steps back down but I did not count nor look back.
E.
I arose early in the morning for some solitude to write up my diary primarily to ensure that at a later date they would confirm that the memories of the last two days were not the result of a short and pestilent fever. It was still quite dark. As I entered the kitchen I espied what I thought was a small figure on the stove. I instantly froze for the previous evenings escapades were still fresh in my mind. I turned slowly and saw not the Pope as Sean had recounted he had seen at his grandfather's house as a child but the Virgin herself! I am not of the catholic persuasion and do not normally suffer the guilt which that particular religion encourages in its flock but at that moment every misnomer I had done against the teaching of God flashed into my mind. I was surprised how many came flooding back before I remembered I was also living in sin!
J.
The scream from the kitchen and the absence of Elizabeth next to me had me out of the bed in an instant.
"What's the matter?" I said as I reached the hallway and saw her outline in the kitchen.
She was staring and pointing at something behind the kitchen door. Telling myself to keep as calm as possible and trying not to imagine that Dracula or one of his maid servants had found our apartment, I entered.
My exclamation wasn't quite as loud as hers but gave the same impression. There was the Virgin Mary standing on the cooker!
This is not good news for an Atheist for I believe the punishments for breaking god's commandments is nothing compared with denying his existence. And for a moment there in front of me was proof that he did exist or at least his mum.
But as I contemplated this, and more importantly how I was going to form an apology for doubting himself, sanity eventually returned thank God. I moved closer. I was reprieved! It was just a painted alabaster figure of the Virgin.
"Sean!" I shouted.
"What's the matter?" He said when he eventually staggered in dressed in what I can only describe as Wee Willy Winkie's nightgown.
"What's this?"
"What? Oh that. I'd brought it in a shop for me mother and left it in the car. I thought I'd bring it in for safe keeping.”
E.
It is not often one hears in the presence of an image of the mother of God such a stream of profanities which James released in the direction of Sean. I must confess I agreed with many of his sentiments even though I didn't understand all their meanings or exactly the direction of their biological application. Suffice to say I could only hope that the Virgin whom I noticed on the stove was looking quite shocked, would forgive us when she realised this little episode had prepared her in good stead for her arrival at Sean's family in Kerry.
END
A Holiday in Cornwall
J.
Daymer Bay lies on the estuary of the River Camel and according to a brochure we had found it is famed for its miles of beautiful sandy beaches and warm waters. It is also said to be a tranquil place where one can enjoy a pleasant vacation and lead a quiet existence.
E.
We had rented rooms in a Manner House located in what James described as a perfect village. By which he means one consisting of nothing but an old church and an Inn whose sole purpose is to supply James and Sean with copious quantities of cask conditioned ale preferably cooked by a master brewer on his own premises not twenty yards away and using water transported magically from a highland spring.
J.
The house nestling in a steep valley with its own secluded gardens was over two hundred years old and had rooms converted into an apartment which the owner rented out to guests. Just as the brochure said it combined an idyllic setting with all the comforts that modern amenities could offer. Having duly unpacked we drove into Wadebridge for provisions and as it was quite late in the day decided to eat at an Italian restaurant by the river. It was quite dark by the time we finished and had some difficulty finding the house again as the satnav without any prompting from us had decided to take an economical route which avoided anything that normally classified as a road. We quickly discovered it is a requirement in North Cornwall that all roads must be no more than twelve foot wide, bend in a different direction every fifty yards with no apparent reason and must be sunk so far below the surrounding fields that no view of any landscape is possible to aid direction. In case the occupants of a vehicle can read a map the tracks are also occasionally punctuated at junctions, which appear out of nowhere, by white finger posts pointing in any direction than the ones printed on the 'fingers'. Sean believes that this was done during the last war to confuse any invasion force and had not been fixed since. I was of the opinion, having done it myself, that it was a prank by young boys to confuse tourists. This provoked much discussion if not argument on our map reading abilities not helped by the fact that on one occasion we found ourselves back in Wadebridge. We eventually returned to the house quite late after inexplicably passing it's entrance twice and on entering it was unanimously agreed that it was thought best to forget about the evening and retired straight to bed where I fell straight to sleep. The absence of traffic and street lighting had a most soporific effect on me because I slept like a log until nine in the morning when the smell of frying bacon rose me from my slumbers.
E.
I awoke after a delicious sleep to sunbeams falling and dancing on the floor from a small gap in the curtain. James I noticed had already risen and by the aroma coming from the kitchen I presumed a full breakfast had beckoned him in preference to me. After breakfast and our menfolk had 'volunteered' to wash up we promenaded around the gardens and relaxed on some old seats in the apple orchard to enjoy the sunshine. My mind filled with a day of gentle strolls with James beside me by the sea. However, Sean and James had other plans. We discovered they had planned a surprise camping trip and had purc
hased what they described as a large two roomed tent for this purpose. Apparently they had decided that we should completely renounce the world for a couple of days and commune with nature. Jill said she could easily commune with nature by looking out of the window of the living room and I supported her by reminding them that having taken almost fifteen hundred years to re-establish a modicum of civilisation after the Romans left and learnt to build, thanks to the re-discovery of Vitruvius, reasonable warm and dry abodes I had no idea why anyone wanted to return to the experiences of primitive man and live in the middle of field with only a bed sheet for protection from the elements. Never-the-less the idea of such a life style had great appeal to our menfolk and so having bought adequate provisions from the local town we drove down to a field by the sea and joined a throng of other 'happy campers'.
Why Jill and I agreed so quickly to this mad idea I am at a loss but if any ladies reading this can explain how our sex acquiesces so quickly to the suggestions of men and have a solution I would be grateful if they could send a letter to me post haste.
J.
We managed to find a nice quiet corner of the field to pitch our tent away from yapping dogs and screaming children and also upwind from the
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