Nothing But Blue Skies
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There are very many reasons why British summers are either non-existent or, alternatively, held on a Thursday. Many of these reasons are either scientific, dull, or both - but all of them are wrong, especially the scientific ones.
The real reason why it rains perpetually from January 1st to December 31st (incl.) is, of course, irritable Chinese Water Dragons. Karen is one such legendary creature. Ancient, noble, near-indestructible and, for a number of wildly improbable reasons, working as an estate-agent, Karen is irritable quite a lot of the time. Hence Wimbledon.
But now things have changed and Karen's no longer irritable. She's FURIOUS.
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palms of his hands. Something like a steel tea cosy plunged down from nowhere over his face and gave him a big sloppy dry kiss with an array of rubber suction pads. Something else grabbed his feet. He was half expecting someone to say ‘Guess who?’ Me. He couldn’t jump in his chair, because he was held down as firmly as interest rates in an election year; but he could do the mental equivalent. Sorry. I startled you. Didn’t mean to do that. I s’pose I shouldn’t play tricks on people. The voice
garden shed and grown, with the help of regular watering and tanker-loads of Baby Bio, into the best-of-show-winning monstrosity they were now trapped inside. If so, the potential of the discovery was staggering; so much so that Gordon promised himself that if ever he got out of this mess he’d pack in broadcasting, buy a strip of land somewhere and plant a crop of late-flowering maisonettes. ‘This one’ll do,’ Neville said, jerking him out of his dreams of avarice and pointing down a spur leading
Gordon said, ‘this should make me feel better.’ ‘Yes,’ Neville agreed. ‘Your turn.’ ‘It’s not a question of whose turn it is. This isn’t a children’s party, we’re trying to escape.’ ‘All right. Now open the door.’ ‘You open the frigging door.’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because you’re braver than me.’ Put like that, there wasn’t much Gordon could say. Trying to look as if he did this sort of thing every day of the week (which he did; there were seven fire doors between the lift and his office) he
you think things can’t get any more complicated . . .’ Hpq frowned. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that really was all just your sweaty armpits—’ ‘Thank you very much.’ ‘—Then I’d suggest getting out of here quickly, on humanitarian grounds, before the other lot of idiots realise something’s wrong and try and land their helicopters on the roof. A bit of a lark is one thing; a mile-wide crater of devastation is quite another.’ Karen went slightly green. ‘I’d forgotten about them,’ she said. ‘Look and
down here, I followed you, to make sure you didn’t get yourself into any really bad trouble.’ She shook her head. ‘I failed. My fault. I underestimated you. Guess I’d forgotten just how unbelievably irresponsible you can be sometimes.’ ‘You under—’ Something occurred to Karen, and she didn’t like it. ‘Do I know you?’ she said. ‘Back home, I mean.’ ‘Of course you do. We’ve known each other since we were so high.’ Karen grabbed Susan’s wrist, but she gently eased out of the grip. ‘All right,