I am frantically busy. Summer in Devon is always jam-packed with weekend excitement. Apart from the usual snail racing—which frankly, when you've watched one race, you've watched them all—there is Hot Pennies Day. It started in the 13th century when more affluent members of the community stood on the balcony of the Assembly Rooms in nearby Honiton and tossed sizzling hot pennies to the starving peasant children below. Rumor has it that they were hot because the rich enjoyed seeing the poor burn their fingers! This mentality is exactly why my Dad is a modern day Robin Hood who steals from the rich to give to the poor—actually, I'm not sure about the last bit. Anyway, I digress. Of course, these days the pennies tossed are warm - no doubt because of potential lawsuits etc. The pennies are also supposed to be for the children but I couldn't help spotting my former crush, Lieutenant Robin Berry, scrabbling in the mud for more than his fair share. Honestly, I was so in love with him. What a disappointment he turned out to be! Our receptionist, Barbara Meadows at the Gipping Gazette (who is an expert in matters of the heart), always says that a man who is a miser with money is also a miser in the bedroom—something I don't want to think about given Barbara's advanced age.
Wait! A call has just come in. Must dash. The council are threatening to remove the old abandoned red telephone box at Ponsford Cross! These are icons of the British establishment. Even Facebook has Red Phone Box fan pages!
Sometimes, I'd do anything to have a nice, quiet murder.