... in which electrofried becomes lost in the mists of time

A portly, black-clad gentleman wearing Predator sunglasses has just become lost in time. The annual summer holiday having reached its customary dampened and premature conclusion, he must once again return to the horology factory at the far end of Little Wittering and take up post as Chief Time-Keeper.

In pursuit of gainful employment

Regular readers will be aware of the unstable finances of the House of Electrofried following an unfortunate speculative venture. With much of the family silver sequestered by trade creditors, subsequent generations have been forced to eek out a meagre existence as best they can.

In the case of our host, the Black Dowager indentured him at an early age to the service of Little Wittering's very own Master Horologist, a greek emigre by the name of Eudor Clesiastise. It was at the feet of this strange and shadowy figure that electofried duly learned the trade which has since sustained the House through many a dark year.

His vain hope is that one day the opening of the House will provide sufficient income for him to resign his position as Chief Time-Keeper and return to Baronial duties. However, for the time being, needs must.

electrofried returns

Accordingly, on Monday morning electrofried rises early from a fitful night's sleep to extract the family charabanc from the stables. After a few turns of the cranking-handle the engine splutters into life and he's ready for the off.

The journey to Eudor's factory is uneventful. The motorised maelstrom that is the village High Street is, for once, blissfully free of traffic - scarce a soul moves. Almost before he knows it, electrofried enters an avenue of white-daubed tree trunks at the approach to the factory gates. Eudor is seated at the entrance, worry-beads in hand, waiting to greet him.

"Ellinika, electrofried!" and the day begins.

The drying room

Life in the horology factory is a strange business. Eudor seems quite mad, though in a way that might just convince us the reverse is true.

For many years now, Eudor has been in search of time. Rumours abound in the factory as to where he locates the fleeting moments and stolen seconds that are hung up to dry in the small whitewashed store opposite the main gates. Electrofried's job, however, is not to enter into idle speculation. As Chief Time-Keeper his sole duty is to ensure not one of the precious elements of time escapes the treble-bolted door and makes off in search of its rightful owner.

It is a task he takes most seriously indeed.

Selling time by the pound

Monday is a "red-letter" day at the factory. Over the preceding months, sixty precious seconds have been collected, dried and bound together ready for sale and now the customer is about to take collection.

Electrofried carries the precious cargo, wrapped in finest crystalline tissue paper, to the factory gates. He's accompanied by the Master Horologist, Eudor. A tall figure dressed in a sharply creased business suit awaits their arrival, thick wads of used banknotes padding out his pockets.

They greet, papers are exchanged and the customer departs. Electrofried counts out the money. Funny how much people will pay for one more precious moment at the end of time.