Corrie's Timeless Travels and Travails

I remember well the day I first became aware of the time arch. I had been out with the dog by the canal and after walking for a while had left the tow-path looking for brambles. As we plunged down the embankment the undergrowth soon caught my jersey and for a moment I lost my sense of direction as I struggled to extricate myself. Finally I stumbled clear of the tangle at the foot of the embankment. I found I was in a small clearing with an old ruin of a house in the centre. All that was standing was one gable end; the rest was a rickle of stones. As I walked around I noticed that the fireplace had fallen out leaving a gap in the old end wall. There was a heavy lintel stone across the top with some sort of design cut in it. For all the world the hole looked like a small door for a small fat man. At this thought, my imagination really took over and in no time at all I had peopled the place with a family of Hobbits and could imagine their daily lives. I stood looking into the ruin lost in thought when through the arch I noticed Dusty snuffling about inside the old house. Afraid in case he cut his paw on old nails or glass I called him. He ran straight towards me through the arch. Just as he passed under the heavy stone, he vanished. I called out sharply, “Dusty” feeling my voice break in astonishment. There was no answering bark. Very confused I walked round the end of the wall to check but as I stepped over the old stones I still could see no sign of Dusty. I must admit I was a bit annoyed by now and I called his name quite sharply as I searched around for some explanation. My eye was drawn to the hole in the end wall. Curious, I picked a path through the grass and rubble to the old hearth all the while shouting on Dusty. I was getting more worried than angry now, as I bent low and ducked under the lintel of the fireplace so I was relieved to hear Dusty’s answering bark. For a moment I thought I had caught my back on the heavy stone lintel as I seemed to feel a jar or grate along my spine as I emerged from the Hobbit’s doorway but I soon forgot all about it as Dusty was running around barking and whining as if he had not seen me for a fortnight. I calmed him down and when I checked my watch I was surprised to notice it was almost tea-time. Mum would be really cross if I was late; punctuality was a big deal in our house. ‘It’s all to do with good manners.’ my mum would say, looking over her glasses in that meaningful way. “Come on Dusty.” I cried and we ran all the way down the canal tow-path, across the playing fields and into our street. I came to sudden halt when I heard a screech of brakes and Sandy Brownie, a neighbour, jumped out of his car and shouted, “Corrie!” at me. I stared at him wondering if he had been drinking again, when Mrs. Smith appeared at her door; she missed nothing that went on in our street. She shouted at me as well. I don’t mind telling you I was more than a bit startled. More people were coming out of their doors and gardens. I took to my heels again, careered up the pavement and turned in at our gate. The door was open and my dad was standing open mouthed and opened armed in the doorway. “Dad! What are all these people shouting for? What’s up?” “Up?” he choked. “Up? It’s you girl, that’s up. Turned up. Corrie where have you been since Saturday? It’s been three days girl, where have you been?”