No stranger to the P45 - Volume One

I once had a dream in which I was pursued by a Spitfire. There was no explanation as to why it was pursuing me - it being a dream and all - but because it was, so I was running away. Clumps of mud and grass filled the air as a thousand rounds of aggravatingly hot lead thumped into the ground and ripped it asunder. Screaming in terror and waving my arms in the air I ran as hard and as fast as my pudgy legs would allow.

What was probably a molehill then exploded in my face.

No stranger to the P45 - Volume One

In a moment of semi-conscious clarity I pondered just how odd and unreasonable this entire scenario was. Then thinking that it would help I dived into a hedge. As I scrabbled through the undergrowth like a frightened mole I had a third semi-conscious thought: I awoke shortly thereafter with the taste of many dandelions and dirt in my mouth. As I recall this dream so I also recall the feeling of abject terror as this masterpiece of aviation technology pursued me across a meadow.

It was that same feeling of abject terror that I also recalled on the day that I heard Page 1. Scotland was surely the hedge. It was the best place to go for a greasy fry-up and a mug of tea for a quid and there were four or five of us tucking into eggs and pig-bits that morning. But I imagine that I probably did. Over breakfast and through his own bleary one-eyed squint of post-alcohol excess, with a mug if tea in one hand and a copy of the Student Times laid out across the table in place of his polished-clean breakfast plate, a friend named Ben was thumbing its pages and trying to come to terms with his own fragility.

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Stopping at a particular page in the paper he began to read aloud a piece about the forthcoming Comic Relief event and the Page 2. Someone suggested dressing-up as clowns and waving buckets about, someone else suggested a parachute jump. In my mind still full of booze-related bubbles and other nonsense the idea was a simple one. Since no one so much as spat out their tea either, so I was encouraged to expand on my suggestion as though it was a viable and perfectly feasible thing to attempt.

After finishing the last of my ketchup-laden pig bits I took a sip of tea and set-about trying to explain it. The idea was to attempt something along the lines of the old television series featuring Anneka Rice, a series entitled Challenge Anneka One particular thing that struck me about the show was that although it gave the impression that the projects were achieved in just a couple of days, the entire operations actually took a couple of weeks.

This was rather relevant to my thought processes - another loose and somewhat inaccurate term - as I sipped tea and chomped on my toast and pig bits.

Smashwords – No stranger to the P45 - Volume One – a book by Dan www.newyorkethnicfood.comn

Spending many years of my younger life in and around the small Somerset town of Frome I was more aware of the existence of Butler and Tanner than someone living somewhere else may have been. Since a television show involving the company was being produced in the town, so the news spread like a small ineffective virus.

In Frome, because nothing really interesting ever occurred, the production of such a show constituted news. Through my booze-related bubbles I figured that with this unique nay dumbfuck idea we could whip up a great amount of support and thus not be particularly concerned that we lacked of any resources whatsoever Page 4. Back at home we telephoned newspapers and radio stations and were interviewed live on-air.

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• Dan www.newyorkethnicfood.comn (Author of No stranger to the P45 - The university years).

We prepared a pitch for the student union and nearing the end of the first week a hundred-plus volunteers were chomping at the bit to get involved. We were offered a defunct Lazer Quest building to put the whole thing together in and I telephoned the press office of the Nissan car plant and collected two brand new vehicles in which to do some of the running around.

Things seemed to be going rather well. Steve and I arrived at the second house a few minutes later and once again I retrieved the correct gift from the back seat. This time my walk back to the car was more than a little close to a stumble. My vision was clear, only it took my head a good moment to realise that. Arriving at the next house I retrieved the gift and again made my way to the front door. The walk from car to door at house number four took considerably longer than all of the others so far. As I once again zigzagged away down the path I thought it highly amusing that from then on I was going to address Steve as something else.

Unfortunately, this advice came a little late: This time there were no grandparents, no siblings and no mother. Child and I were left staring at each other. I had little idea of what next to do. Child was about seven. Here was a kid questioning my professionalism; casting doubt upon my well-meaning masquerade.

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As it was, the youth centre had given no training at all prior to sending us out and about and I therefore had no idea of an appropriate response. I quickly thought on my feet and determined that I should remain in character. Child raised his eyebrows far higher than Rudolph had earlier in the car. I was beginning to find him rather irritating. And I come with preshensh!

And I immediately fled the house as fast as I could, hoping to be away long before his father returned lest in a fit of rage he battered me into oblivion with a bag of sprouts. A Bah-Humbug to all. Here I present an excerpt from 'No stranger to the P45': Look, Kid, there aint no Santa! And now, are you sitting comfortably? That it encompasses a sixty-day bombardment of advertising to sell junk that people neither need nor want and rarely deserve , a building to a nonsensical frenzy of buying even more junk that people neither need nor want and rarely deserve , two days of being nice to one another, eating too much food, feeling sick, and finally five days or so of wondering what all the fuss was about in the first place, simply adds to its monumental unpleasantness.

Tis a time for nothing but self-inflicted misery and despair.

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Chi ama i libri sceglie Kobo e inMondadori. No stranger to the P Volume One by Dan W. Buy the eBook Price: Available in Russia Shop from Russia to buy this item. Or, get it for Kobo Super Points! Ratings and Reviews 0 0 star ratings 0 reviews. Overall rating No ratings yet 0. How to write a great review Do Say what you liked best and least Describe the author's style Explain the rating you gave Don't Use rude and profane language Include any personal information Mention spoilers or the book's price Recap the plot.

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