13 – Cap’ain Poldark

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Dear Lucy,

Finding myself at a loose end whilst Tommy’s off researching Mead production at the local distilleries, I’ve decided to try a spot of open water swimming around the Cornish coast.

Whilst paddling I happened to bump into a local chap by the name of Cap’ain Poldark. He’s something of a hit around these parts especially with the ladies, mainly due to his stunning good looks, kindly nature and propensity for bathing ‘en plein air’ in the buff.

After our swim Poldark offered to give me a tour of his tin mine. His discourse on subterranean geology was most interesting for the first few minutes but my attention drifted after spotting a discarded Cornish pasty on a nearby rock ledge. These really are a marvel of culinary engineering. Designed to provide a whole dinner in one handy pastry parcel there’s meaty bits on one side and fruity bits on the other.  Super yummy!

Tomorrow Ross is going to give me a crash course in looking handsome whilst poncing about in a frock coat.

Much Love,

M.M.

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Morris would love to know what you think of his letters and postcards.   Anyone out there a fan of Cap’ain Poldark, or do you favour other literary greats?  Morris is hoping to meet up with Sherlock Holmes on his travels.  Hit the comments button and let Morris know who you’d like to meet.

© All images and story content copyright of lynncf

12 – The Beginning of my Adventure – Letter Two

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August 2015

Dear Lucy,

Tommy’s unfortunate train incident with the tablecloth has given me a chance to sit quietly and catch up on my letter.  I think I left you last time at the point where Winston had landed in a pile of mail.

Well to go on, once Winston had dusted himself down he made his way through the depot. No one noticed him as most of the mice were preoccupied with a mound of lemon meringue doughnuts, brought in for everyone by the birthday boy of that particular day.  At the end of the depot was a heavy wooden door with a glass window marked in fancy gold lettering ‘Postmouster General’, and underneath that a tatty piece of paper reading ‘Leading to Science Lab’.  Winston pushed open the door and on finding no one in the office, carried on through to the lab where he met with a mouse by the name of Herbert, who looked to be working on fixing an old lift.

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It seems that whilst bunking off to play a game of marbles behind the packing cases, a few of the young work experience mice had found an old tea chest full of letters from all over history, each with a stamp marked ‘LOST’.  Although franked, these letters never reached their destinations.  To solve this problem Herbert, being something of a genius, was taken off general duties and called upon by the Postmouster to invent a time machine that could get the letters back to the rightful recipients.

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By the time Winston arrived the time machine was all set up, but Herbert hadn’t managed to find a suitable vehicle on which to make the time travel complete.  This is where Winston stepped in explaining about the unusual weather events, the airmail letter that had magically quadrupled in size, and his whizzer of a ride down the tunnels that led to the depot.  Concluding that there was something very special about the airmail letter, Winston and Herbert set about folding it into a plane.  They set the destination and date dials on the machine, picked up the first of the lost letters and the rest, as they say, is history!

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Winston and Herbert spent the next 10 years travelling through time delivering all the lost post, until every last letter and postcard was returned home.

Winston and Herbert are now 16 which is an unusual age for mice, but they think that has something to do with a fourth dimension and the bending of time.  To be honest I didn’t quite understand what Winston was banging on about, and I sort of drifted off at that point in the story due to having lost half my biscuit down the side of Winston’s armchair.

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Must go, we’re pulling into the station and I’ve got to keep an eye on Tommy as he never minds the gap.  Last week he held up the 4.30 from Paddington for 45 minutes whilst guards tried to retrieve his umbrella from under the buffet car!

M.M.

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Morris would love to know what you think of his letters and postcards. He loves chatting writing and tapping away on a keyboard, so please feel free to hit the comments box.

Morris will get back to you mouse style.

© All images and story content copyright of lynncf

11 – The Train Down to the West Country

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Dear Lucy,

I’m travelling down to the West Country with my mate Tommy.  Shortly after the train pulled out the station we chanced upon an old book stuffed between the cushions.

Seeing as the book was falling apart and now of not much use to neither man or mouse, we decided to use the endpapers for scribbling, as we whiled away our journey.

I made a few Turneresque sketches of the steam passing by the window whilst Tommy drew up engineering plans for an idea he has to turn stream water into gin.  All was going well until Tommy suggested we play a game to see how many words we could make out of the book’s title.  Sadly the game didn’t last very long as Tommy’s last word sent him into a fit of giggles before he could finish putting pen to paper.  His extreme hilarity coupled with the jolt of a sudden points change resulted in Tommy slipping off the velvet cushions, grabbing the tablecloth on the way down and taking the entire contents of the table with him.blog 11a

The conductor ran to see what all the commotion was about and on finding Tommy blindly stumbling about like Tommy Cooper’s ghost, told us that if “we didn’t stop pissing about” he’d have us chucked off the train!

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The rest of the journey was pretty quiet apart from the odd recollective snort from Tommy.

M.M.

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Morris would love to know what you think of his letters and postcards. He loves chatting writing and tapping away on a keyboard, so please feel free to hit the comments box.

Morris will get back to you mouse style.

© All images and story content copyright of lynncf

10 – Sixer Smithington

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Dear Lucy,

Back from the Americas I find myself roped into the annual Sods Green versus Knickers Drift charity cricket match.

Although supposedly a ‘friendly’ game, I have to report that it was all out war!  Rivalry has been rife between these two neighbouring villages since 1930, when team captain Percy Smithington’s Great Great Grandfather was found cheating in the Inter-County Conker Championships’.  Turns out his seemingly unbeatable ‘ninety-sixer’ was fashioned from a cast iron composite, a discovery which put paid to the reign of Knickers Drift winning the rights to graze their animals on Sods Common.

True to family form, on the day of the cricket match ‘Sixer Smithington’ was yet again caught ball tampering, secretly fiddling about in his trouser pocket with a pair of ladies sewing scissors.

Despite his best efforts to thwart our endeavours, us Sods emerged triumphant when I caught Smithington out on his second bat, after Tommy Tankerton bowled an unexpected googly just before tea!

All good fun and £3, 5 shillings and sixpence raised for the St. Margaret’s Home for Out of Work Sheepdogs.

M.M.

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“HOW WELL WE FIELDED! AND HOW WELL WE BOWLED!”

“AND HOW WELL WE WHOOPED SMITHINGTON’S ARSE!”

Morris would love to know what you think of his letters and postcards. He loves chatting writing and tapping away on a keyboard, so please feel free to hit the comments box.

Morris will get back to you mouse style.

© All images and story content copyright of lynncf