John Wentley Takes Charge 6

What are those two rascals up to now?

Bill laughed. “I had the same trouble when I first came here,” he explained. “However, to resume – I sat back and waited for two solid months after putting in my application to build, and heard nothing,” continued Bill. “All this time I was keeping my car in a farmer’s shed about two hundred yards along the road. Naturally I began to get fed up. Apart from the inconvenience, I didn’t see the point of paying rent for a garage when there was so much spare room in these grounds.”

“I don’t blame you,” put in John.

“Eventually, I went and saw the chappie again,” went on Bill. “He was utterly surprised to hear I hadn’t had word to carry on from the Council, and promised to put in a reminder if he could, but he explained he had to go gently as he was merely an employee. I quite saw his point.

“Time went on and the weather improved, so I started work by cutting an entrance through my hedge and levelling the grass verge by the roadside, so that I could drive my bus into my ground. That soon made ‘em sit up and take notice!”

“What happened?”

“I had a letter from the Council Clerk, saying that as I had started building my garage the Council were not going to give their consent and that I would have to move the building, at my own expense, at any time they directed. That letter was registered, by the way.”

“Well, I’m blowed!” exclaimed his brother. “What did you do then?”

“I sent a registered letter back, stating that they had been misinformed and that I had not begun building the garage, but merely opening up the ground to the road. A few weeks later I received a further letter. This one, owing to some carelessness, had been sent to a village on the other side of the county with a similar name. The clerk who addressed the envelope made that mistake. This one pointed out that I should have had permission to do even this work, but that if I agreed to move the building, at my own expense, should the Council desire it at some future date, the permission would be granted.

“I agreed to that, with the reservation that the removal should be only on account of road widening, and settled down to another wait. Last week I received the official permission.”

“Well, you’ve got it so you can go ahead, I suppose,” pointed out John. “Why haven’t you put the garage up?”

“Because, old man, that permission was dated, signed, and generally fixed up within one week of my applying for the Council’s consent,” explained Bill. “ That means I was, as far as the Council was concerned, authorised to do the work. At least that’s how I consider it, and I reckon that they deliberately wangled that agreement from me. Briefly, I’m not going to stand for it.”

John looked at his brother in amazement. As a rule Bill made no fuss, but the tone in which he uttered the last sentence showed that he was on the war-path.

It's clear now. Plunge a hypodermic into someone's arm and you cause a degree of mild concern. But threaten an Englishman's right to build a garage wherever he jolly well pleases, and the the gloves come off.

I'm glad Bill made sure to emphasise (three times) that the letters were registered. I wonder if that will be important later on?

Dialogue Attribution Checklist: non-said - 7 ('explained' twice, 'continued', 'put in', 'went on', 'exclaimed', 'pointed out'). Said - nil. Cumulative 'said' count for entire chapter so far - nil.

PFC Westerman's anti-said mania has reached a zen-like state, a level of majesty not often seen, a state where petty considerations of rationale and purpose are irrelevant. I'm lulled by the haunting insertions of 'explained', 'put in' and 'pointed out'. I'm soothed by 'enquired', 'stated' and 'reminded'. I'm intrigued to see how he can continue to cope.