Christmas Story 5 of 12

It’s a really odd thing to be in the witness protection program.
You have to uproot your whole life. Move to a different part of the country, take on a new job, a new identity. Everything changes.
I’m not really keen on the changes it’s brought me.
I’ve had to take on the persona of a business guy. Now, that doesn’t sound so bad. Wear a suit, go to work, hang around the office, have a laugh, go home. No problem right?
Except the undercover people who gave me this identity also specified some details that I’d rather not have, which is why I saw sat on the bus and loudly talking into my phone.
"So we'll ship out ten thou of them? That's great. Should see some real turn around on sales."
I felt like such an arsehole.
Why would anyone need to speak like that? Who would care what I’m telling some random person on the other end of the phone? If I’m so important why am I on the bus and not in a fancy company car?
But I had to give up the illusion.
It all started four months ago. I was a nothing really. My job was menial, I didn’t really make a huge impact on the world. But I was a nice guy.
I did good deeds, I raised money for charity. I wasn’t anything special, but I did little things to make the world nicer.
Then one night I was at work late for some reason or other and I overheard some voices. They were discussing some things which didn’t make sense. Interdimensional thingys and stuff that sounds like it’s from Star Trek.
But then they started discussing theft and murder and their plans involved both. I figured that was not a good thing and went to see the police. I figured they wouldn’t believe me since there was all the crazy stuff to begin with.
After waiting about an hour this detective came in and said we had to move quickly. Within three hours I found myself in a daze and in a limo. They told me who I had to be from now on, how I had to act, where I’d be living. I’d overheard something big and I should be worried for my life.
Still they said they were sending someone out to sort it all. Some ‘expert’. They say she used to be the best.
But until then, until some Olive fixes whatever project Arturis is about.
Until then I’m stuck as some jerk in a suit shouting in a phone, posturing to compensate for some hole in my soul.
I don’t feel safe, but I’m doing my best.
As I get off the bus I help this old lady down, she smiles real nice at me.
I may not be able to live out my life, but I can still do some things as I used to.
Strangely when I turned round the old lady had gone, I shivered in the cold wind.
I guess weird things happen wherever you go. 

Christmas Story 4 of 12

My legs really hurt these days.
It’s a tricky life being an old superhero.
Well super heroine really, but it’s hard to use that term these days without people thinking you’ve got a new drug.
I often sit on this bus thinking about the ‘glory’ days. Back when I wasn’t wrinkled and gnarled.
I even had a fling with Superman once. A lovely dinner in some expensive restaurant, followed by a moonlit flight over the sea.
Funny how he never aged, I guess being an alien really works out well for him.
To look at me now you’d be surprised if I made it across the road without having to take a breather in the middle.
But still, I can’t grumble, I’ve done some amazing things in my life.
There are few people that can say they’ve flown into a volcano. Well few people who have done that and lived.
I’ve been at the pinnacle of Everest and the depths of the ocean. I’ve stopped so much destruction and saved so many lives.
For the most part I did it in secret. One or two people learned of what I could do, but that rarely ended well. If they didn’t die, they turned bad. I still don’t know which is worse.
But that’s not to say I’m useless now.
I have no problems opening jars. I’m suspiciously quick when I’m in the supermarket. You won’t find me saying “What? Can you speak up dearie?”
There are perks to being an old superhero.
For instance, I can see the ghost on this bus.
She seems quite sad.
I’d like to talk to her and help her out, but I have my own stuff to do.
It’s an odd thing to be asked out of retirement, especially at this time of year.
But I guess it’s exactly because it’s this time of year I’m needed.
I remember the Nazis having a go at the Arturis project in the 30s. They didn’t know what they were doing any more than these guys know now.
Still, anything to save Christmas and be a heroine again.
I gave the young man who helped me off the bus, a smile.
As the bus pulls away I accelerate to a reasonable fraction of light speed and head towards my target.
My legs still hurt though. 

Christmas Story 3 of 12

I pushed Gareth’s buggy onto the bus and paid for my ticket.
The bus wasn’t as packed as it usually is so I had no problem getting a seat and a space for Gareth.
Looking around the bus I saw a few faces I recognised. The woman on the phone always seemed quite relaxed, especially compared the guy who smelled funny and muttered to himself. Gareth doesn’t like him at all.
“I see El-Stinko is on the bus today.”
“Ssshhh Gareth! Not so loud.”
“Well excuse me. I thought we had a free speech in this country.”
Gareth is, as you might have guessed, an unusual baby. You’ve probably met people that even when young seem to have been born old? Well Gareth has the mind of a dirty 40 year old and weirdly the vocabulary too.
Gareth’s role model seems to be Baby Herman from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I refuse to give him a cigar however, he may be a foul mouthed vile one year old, but I’ve got to draw the line at some point.
“There may be free speech, but there’s also politeness, Gareth.”
“Yak yak yak. Hey, the broad on the phone’s hot!”
“Oh, pipe down little man. It’s not like you can do anything about it.”
“Don’t remind me. You wouldn’t believe the looks I get in strip joints.”
I had to laugh at that.
“Yeah, I can just imagine you now, jumping up and down at the bar hoping to be seen.”
“Hey don’t knock my stature, it gives me a great view of some things, thank you very much.”
“Ewww, Gareth.”
“What? I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
“You know what you should get, one of those man suits.”
“What man suits?”
“You know, like in Pinky and the Brain.”
“Oh yeah, big robot body, teeny little mouse head.”
“Or in your case, teeny little baby head.”
"My head’s big enough thank you.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I never figure how people are convinced by that, who knows a guy with a normal body and a tiny head?”
“It’s called comedy, for a baby you’re way too critical of cartoons.”
“I can never be too critical of cartoons. Anyway, I’d like for us to get off at the next stop. It’s a bit chilly on this bus. And I don’t like the idea of that ghost touching me.”
“Ok, we’re nearly home anyway.” I hesitated. “What ghost?”
“Never mind woman, you never pay attention to anything I say.”
I pushed the buggy off the bus into the cold air.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

Christmas story 2 of 12

Guy was, by most definitions, a little bit odd.
People didn’t seem to like spending time with him. It may have been his odd smell, or his random twitching, or just the way he persistently muttered to himself.
On the plus side when he got on the bus, as he did now, he usually had a seat all to himself.
While Guy didn’t mind not having what might be called friends, he did mind that no one took him seriously.
It was especially worrisome to him now, so close to Christmas. It would all happen soon and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to do anything about it.
Looking around the bus he saw his friend Russell.
He tried to catch his attention but Russell was making a phone call and looked quite stressed.
Guy sighed. It was hard knowing stuff you couldn’t share with anyone, mainly because they thought you were completely nuts if you told them it.
They called it project Arturis but Guy knew better than that. The boundary between reality was very weak this time of year and what they were letting through may resemble Santa but was nothing of the sort.
Guy was very concerned by the thought of a big red and white interdimensional creature coming down his chimney in the middle of the night. Especially as he didn’t have a chimney.
Most would think that worrying about a Santa like creature breaking into your house is a pointless endeavour, Guy had been concerned about it ever since his Halloween incident.
Being plagued by supernatural occurrences seems to have been an off shoot of the ‘industrial accident’ Guy suffered.
Guy wished he was like other people and didn’t notice the strange things that went on around him all the time. The fearful things he saw every waking moment were what caused him to smell so bad. The constant mutterings were his way of warding off any attack.
The bus came to a stop and a woman got on. Guy hadn’t noticed Russell get one, but he noticed the woman. She was Laura and she worked on project Arturis.
Guy kept his head down and carried on his protective chants. He didn’t know exactly how much they knew. Nor really what he could do that would make them worry anyway.
Guy shivered as an unexpected cold burst made him shiver.
He blinked twice and felt a strange lightness in his head.
The worries and concerns Guy had were gone.
They had evaporated like steam. He no longer worried about any of the supernatural creatures that may or may not exist, and felt for the first time in a long time that a bath would really help.
The bus pulled up at his stop and he got off, feeling a lot better about himself. 

Christmas story 1 of 12

Today I walked to work for a team meeting, took two hours. Played football for an hour in the evening. I continue to be not very good at football and I've hurt my ankle, but it was fun and I hope we do it regularly.
We got beaten 5-0 by people who are more used to running around and kicking balls in the right places.

So here's the first of my 12 stories, set on the number 12 bus I get regularly. They are not in chronological order so you may have to think a little :)
13th one on Christmas Day, despite me saying first of my 12.
Tsk.


"Hello?"

"Hello...?"

It was her voicemail. I didn't know whether to leave a message or not. It was hard enough getting on the bus and showing the driver my pass without thinking of a good message to leave.

I was just sitting down when the message ended and I shivered, I wondered if the window was open or something, but I decided to leave a message anyway.

"Hi, it's Laura, I'm wondering where you are, I waited for you but I'm guessing I missed you. I've just been round town but I've got to head home now. Give me a call when you get this so I know what time you're coming round tonight. Bye!"

I looked around the bus as I pondered what had happened to her. There was a woman with her baby, she was laughing at something, I guess she was entertaining the kid. Just behind me was a weird looking guy who seemed to be muttering to himself.

I decided to ring around and see what had happened to Rebecca, it wasn't like her to disappear.

I rang Barry first.

"Hi, have you heard from Rebecca at all?"

"No, not seen her since lunch."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She went off to deal with some sort of containment leak then I had to go and deal with project arturis again."

"Again? I thought they'd sorted that out?"

"Nah, it's still giving off that interdimensional goop."

"I'm fairly sure goop isn't the scientific name for it."

"It is. Me and Gavin defined it last Thursday. That's the handy thing about discovering something, you can name it what you like."

"Until your performance review."

"Nothing to worry about there, Simon's not due back planetside for another four months."

"Lucky you. Well I'm going to see if anyone else has seen her. Do you have Hubert's number?"

"Hubert? He doesn't speak to girls."

"He does if you're nice to him and I am."

"Ok then, but you can only contact him through pathic-phone, epsilon sigma phi."

"Cheers, see you next week. Bye"

It's pretty weird to work in special research, even weirder to get the bus when you work for it. But I figure it keeps me grounded, with the crazy stuff I see every day it's good to know there are normal people out there.

The odd guy that muttered to himself had gone and a businessman had got on instead. He was chatting really loudly on his mobile; "So we'll ship out ten thou of them? That's great. Should see some real turn around on sales."

I don't get why people have to talk so loud. It seems the less important their actual work is, the louder they get. I once did a study on it and created a mathematical model to show that. Pan dimensinal computers really helped me out.

Speaking of computers, I'd best call Hubert. I swicthed my Nokia to the telepathic mode and dialled.

It helped to keep the phone by my ear to give the illusion of actually speaking through the phone. I've learned just sitting on the bus thinking looks a bit odd.

Hi Hubert.

Oh hi Laura.

How are you?

Not too bad really. I'm thinking of going for an upgrade soon.

You sure? You already have more processing power than you know what to do with.

Yeah, but those Intel guys are catching up with me.

Fair enough. Have you seen Rebecca?

Yes.

I sighed, Hubert could be very literal if he didn't feel like being helpful.

Have you seen her today since lunch?

No.

Ok. Sorry to have bothered you.

You didn't bother me don't worry.

I won't, bye.

I sighed, another dead end, I was starting to worry about Rebecca, who knows what had happened to her. But it was time to get off the bus as I was nearly home. I pressed the button to stop the bus just as my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Rebecca. Did you want me?"

"Rebecca! Good to hear from you, where've you been? I've been worried."

"Oh, I got caught in a stasis bubble, would've been stuck there all night if the cleaner hadn't spotted me. We still on for tonight?"

The bus had stopped and I headed to the door.

"Yeah, I've got some plans for my hair, I hope you're prepared to experiment..."

I stepped off the bus and headed home. 

The Road To Hell...

Is paved with good intentions, or frozen salespeople if you believe Terry Pratchett.

This is the third time I've written this, so if at any point it seems I'm just trying to rattle through information without any thought to making it entertaining, you're probably right. It's annoying when stuff loses what you've typed in a magical and bewlidering way, so I've resorted to writing this in Notepad then copying and pasting.

Anyway, I intended to keep this up to date and all, but it turn out when you're walking and working as much as you can and trying to raise money, you end up tired and disinclined towards typing on the internet.

But hopefully I'll be more dilligent now. If you see below you'll realise I'll have to update at least once a day til Christmas. Intrigued? Well don't go reading ahead, you'll get there soon enough.

So, my training? I've been continuing to walk to work and back from it, when time and energy allow. I've alos been walking round the Orme, which now takes me just an hour from North Shore to West Shore, which gives me a speed of 4 1/2 miles an hour or possibly 4 1/4 I forgot what it said on the information point. But that's pretty good considering the up and down or Marine Drive.

I'll try tackling it from West to North soon as the incline makes it harder that way.

Ian from work has offered to help me with my training. He ex army so I expect to be put through my paces. Also he drives so that'll be a big help in getting me to the bigger mountains round here. With any luck he'll be free this weekend and we'll be off to get wet and cold in amongst some grass.

Additionally, tomorrow I'll be attempting to play football with random people from work and friends of work people. Happily I am certainly fitter than some of the people that will be attending so that may just make up for my inability to kick the ball in the right direction.

My fund raising is going worryingly slowly and I expect I'll have to give it some attention if I expect to have some chance of reaching my target. If you'd like to help get over to www.justgiving.com/johnredwards and give all your life's savings. Go on.

Unless you've not saved anything, then try and find something to donate.

I've got a podcast up on iTunes. Go and search for Kilimanjaro Trek For Marie Curie Cancer Care and you should find it. Only one episode so far, for the same reasons there's only two posts here. But again I'll do another one soon.

As for keeping this up to date. Well tomorrow will see 12 days to Christmas. As anyone who gets a Christmas card from me will know, I put a little story in the cards as a seasonal incentive not to have boring cards. This year I'll do 12 stories one a day on here, which will also get into people's cards. Then a 13th one on Christmas Day. If I do it right the stories should be interlinked in a wonderful and magical way that'll please anyone who likes that sort of thing.

If I do it wrong it'll look a bit messy.

Since I've not written one yet I may feel the pressure Dickens must have when he was serialising his stories back in the day. There's no going back and editing to put in something I'll need later.

So fingers crossed...

 (I've noticed my post subjects have thus far been both relating to roads and song lyrics, can I think of any more? Maybe...)