Pictures at an Exhibition - the Horologist's Cut

Dear Browsers and Browserettes,

one of our regulars to the House left a comment in the Visitors' Book yesterday concerning the possible inclusion of a "Gallerie Photographique", and who am I to spurn such request. Accordingly, earlier this morning I instructed Fetlock to suspend dusting temporarily and fetch me down an album from the Library shelves.

The results are duly exhibited further down the page.

Flights of fancy

Before I provide a little more detail concerning the pictures, I must first bring you up to speed with the exploits of my late Great Uncle Electrofried.

Following his ill-timed and disasterous punt on the malted beverages futures-market, Great Uncle struck upon a brilliant idea to restore the fortunes of the House - namely, the construction of an airport on the outskirts of Little Wittering in order to relieve the congested air-ways above our over-crowded capital City.

Terminal Velocity

Heathrow and its ilk are well known to collectors of frequent-flyer awards, but few will be aware of the existence of Gnatwyke, a once-bustling terminal located just three miles drive from the House. You pass it on the left-hand side as you travel north toward Eudor's horology factory.

Constructed initially to receive light passenger traffic, it was not long before Great Uncle was tempted to extend the activities of the airport to commercial cargo. Work accordingly commenced on the construction of a second runway and plans were put in motion for a grand Opening Ceremony.

Special Delivery

It will come as a little surprise that Great Uncle insisted the first cargo to be delivered to the new facility should be a bulk load of a well-known bedtime beverage from the Slough HQ of Horlicks.

To add to the fun of the occasion, it was to arrive not by airplane but on board a huge dirigible, constructed especially for the purpose, in the shape of an Indian elephant - said country being, at the time, the number one market for the beverage in question.

Excitement approached fever-pitch in the village as the Big Day loomed. Bunting was duly bunted and the local Womens' Institute set about work to bake the biggest scone in cream-tea history.

First sightings

At long last, the time arrived for the grand Opening Ceremony. Great Uncle Electrofried, accompanied by representatives from the WI and the entire Parish Council of Little Wittering, stood waiting by the newly constructed runway, heads craned sky-ward to catch sight of the approaching dirigible.

She was first spotted by a small child who leapt up and down pointing to an indistinct, vacillating dot in the far distance. Parish records disclose her name as "Preteeny Goth", but one suspects this may have been a pseudonym.

Suffice to say, her cries of, "It's going to crash, it's going to crash!!", were roundly ignored by all except her mother, who wisely picked up the child in her arms and carried her off in the general direction of the cake-stall.

Crash, bang, wallop!

The rest, of course, is history. The dirigible duly hove into sight, cutting an eccentric path toward Runway No. 2 and with a marked lean to the portside. Understandably, the assembled crowd below fled for their very lives, leaving the air-borne wanderer to lurch to a premature and resounding halt in the cream-tea tent.

All hope of beating the WI scone record came instantly to naught as the dirigible discharged its cargo of Horlicks-bearing elephants into the very heart of the mix. The contents were duly splattered to the four corners of the runway, but fortunately no elephant perished in the bake.

Black Box Recorder

We now know the cause of this unfortunate scone-base debacle. The black box recorder, subsequently recovered from the smouldering hull of the dirigible, revealed all.

Apparently, the constituent members of a small herd of Indian elephants hired especially for the day by Great Uncle from a local circus, had chosen simultaneously to look over at the view on the portside of the wicker basket - with disasterous consequences for all concerned.

Depressing Coverage

The "Little Wittering Bugle" expressed little sympathy. Its report of the events of the day appeared under the banner:

"Elephants in dirigible strike fear into the heart of Little Wittering's Womens' Institute at newly opened Gnatwyke Runway No 2."

A snappy headline, if ever there was one, but sufficient to promote a wave of cancellations from prospective incoming airlines. The inevitable closure of the entire airport facility followed shortly after, leaving Great Uncle Electrofried to lick his wounds and scrape the remainder of the well-dispersed scone mix from Runway No. 2.

Little Wittering - the Annual Quilting Exhibition

Of course, the story doesn't end there!

When we inherited the House some years ago, title to the estate at Gnatwyke passed with it. Mrs electrofried was determined to put to good use the disused aircraft hangar at the end of Runway No 2. Accordingly, shortly after we took up residence, she launched the first of Little Wittering's now legendary Annual Quilting Exhibitions under its freshly dusted rafters.

The latest took place just a few weeks ago and, as Photographer-in-Chief, I was duly charged with the task of covering the day. A few sample snaps appear in the pasting immediately below.

Remembering our fore-bears

Notwithstanding the disasterous events of the Opening Ceremony, mrs electrofried still insists, to this day, on celebrating the work of Great Uncle.

Should you ever choose to join us at a future Exhibition, you will find tucked around the corner of the quilting stands a small kiosk staffed by representatives of the local WI. They serve, as you may well have guessed by now, elephant-shaped scones.

yours as ever,

electrofried (mr)