WHERE WAS I?
My friend is trying to change my plans. He wants to see a station that starred in a famous children’s film. It’s two miles southwest of this market town, on a heritage railway. “Afterwards,” he says, “we’ll visit the parsonage where those three novelists lived.”
“Nice try,” I tell him. “But sport is the priority.” So I drive him to a club (formed in 1920) at the northwestern tip of the town that nurtured the talent of another star. She now competes on a global stage.
Then two miles eastsoutheast of the club I show him a 17th-century National Trust hall and tell him that the lead singer of a 21st-century band was born in the town.
Admittedly, neither has much to do with sport. So I tackle Friend’s growing frustration by taking him to a pub.
At this point I notice the time. Oops. “We’ve missed the last train to your station,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says flatly.
Normally I’d predict a riot, but he seems satisfied by the beer, which is scrummy.
“Cheers,” he says, and we clink glasses. Then he upends his pint over my head.
“I think you’d call that a blindside move,” he says — and goes in search of a taxi.
Sean Newsom
THE QUESTIONS
1. What is the name of the market town?
2. What is the name of the National Trust hall?