“Ten pounds! It was only sixpence when I was a boy”. “Well in those days the horses could eat grass along the way, unfortunately we have to buy fuel”. “Hhmph”, said the Old Codger. “I’ll have you know we went in a charabanc and the driver was jolly nice too”. “You have to pay extra for a jolly driver”, said the not so jolly driver. The Old Codger did not want to pay extra so he pulled out his purse from his pocket and unfolded a ten pound note. The driver took it and gave him back a ticket. Then they were off on their way to Blackpool.

The coach was full of excited holidaymakers, none more so than the Taylor’s; Mr. And Mrs. Taylor and their two children Tammy and Tommy.  They lived behind the allotments and Tammy and Tommy often helped the owners with their gardening. The Old Codger thought they were pesky, troublesome kids, who if they were not causing mayhem were noisy and bothersome.


After a bout of excited fidgeting on their seats they decided to go and greet the Old Codger. “Hello, Mr. Curmudgeon, we’re going to Blackpool”, they said together. In reality they were good kids and although everyone knew him as the Old Codger they were polite enough to use his real name. For a long time no one knew his real name but one day the postwoman delivered a letter while he was out and because his shed did not have a letterbox she left it propped on a barrel outside his door. It was addressed to “O. C. Curmudgeon, Railway Allotments, Wiggington”.

The Old Codger did not dislike these children anymore than any others, he simply disliked children. “Uurrgh, hello”, he mumbled hoping they would go away. “Are you going to Blackpool too?” said Tommy. Before the Old Codger could answer Tammy and Tommy’s parents called them back to their seats and he was left in peace for the remainder of the journey.