This post contains reference to a silver key, it is because of things that earlier in the year regarding a silver box. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it! or your hideously ugly head depending on its appearance.
I have absolutely no faith in our bus driver, I’m sure he is trying to kill us or himself. He mounted the curb 8 times today!
Watch a video of today’s shenanigans right ere
First thing this morn we got up and had breakfast. They didn’t even have any of the pink protein meat (they had another meat slice but it had clear gel and lumps in so of course I didn’t try it) so I just had 2 sweet bread roll things and I put cheese on them. The Germans at the next table gave me some very odd looks. I guess it’s very wrong to have cheese on sweet bread stuff. Sod them all. Dad wanted to see how much he could eat. He had
- Boiled eggs (6)
- Slices of toast (4)
- Slices of cheese (8)
- ‘Meat’ slices (1, he didn’t like them either today)
- Bowls of cereal (2)
- Yoghurt (3 bowls, it was the same yoghurt from last night)
- Slices of bacon (6 but it looked like it had been boiled so I refused to even try it)
- Scrambled egg (one mouthful)
The second he tried the scrambled egg he had to run off and find a toilet to be sick in. Apparently it was off and also it had the consistency of an ‘egg custard’ which Dad hates almost as much as I hate tomatoes. He sicked it all back up (it took 14 ‘sicks’ before he stopped), then he came back and had another 2 boiled eggs and toast. I just sat there all the time astonished he was trying to eat so much, given he hasn’t poo pooed yet.
At 9 am we set off for Strasbourg. Both me and my father (and grandfather) thought this was in Germany however we were moronic idiots, because it’s in France! And if there is one thing Cecil hates more than egg custards, it’s the French! He’s always had a deep distrust of them since some of them stood in our way when were trying to catch our bus when we went to Austria. Father was furious, but he had to come to Strasbourg to find the key, so into France we went!
We got off the bus at 10:30am and walked towards the huge church thing. Notre dame or something I don’t know, though I thought that was in Paris, but it’s the only French church I know of so get off my back! This had to be the church granddad talked about. Opposite it there was a hotel, the one Granddad lived in for a while with Mimi! We got into the church and began looking around for gargoyles that looked like a young Bruce Forsyth. It took us 52 minutes but we found one by a door. The only problem was there was a thick piece of red robe in our way. How could we get passed this and through the door? There was only one thing for it. Someone would have to make a distraction, while someone very brave snuck through the door.
We flipped a coin. And 5 times out of 5 it came up as me having to do the distraction. But I refused. So in the end Dad had to go and pretend to fall over while some guard type people went to his aid I snuck through the door.
I looked up. I wished I had done the distraction. There must have been at least eight thousand and ten stairs, then two or more! I climbed them all. It took me 35 minutes. I finally reached the top. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned for decades. I had no idea which way east was. So I just pulled at bricks near the floor near windows, finally a few fell away and behind them was another leather folder. I grabbed it, but also checked all the other windows just to be absolutely sure I had the only hidden folder at the top of the tower. It was.
I ran down the stairs and through the door. A man gave me an odd look but he didn’t say anything. I went outside and met Dad by the hotel as arranged! We walked down the hill to the river out of the gaze of CCTV and MI5 should they been peeping on us. We opened the folder. Inside was a piece of paper and a cube of stone and a lighter. I read the paper, which had these words written on it
“To whom it may or may not concern. Within this cube is hidden a key. The key belongs to a silver box hidden in my writing bureau. Within the box are artefacts which if discovered by the wrong people could destroy all of humanity. If you need this key the only way for you to access it is by melting the stone it is now encased in. To do this …..”
Then the paper had gotten damp and was unreadable. Dad then got quite angry. He just picked up the cube and lighter and started to try and burn it. Amazingly it worked. The stone got very hot and started to disintegrate. After about 10 minutes the key was visible. After another 5 minutes the rest of the cube disintegrated and the key fell into Dads palm. He grabbed it and went to hug me with joy that he finally had the right key. But then he started screaming. He flung his arms up in the air. They key had been red hot. The key shot out of his hand. The key flew through the air. The key went ‘plop’ into the river. The key was never seen again. Dad wept!
For 20 minutes he just sat there crying, clutching his hand. I didn’t know what to say or do so I just sat next to him looking at the boats going back and forth. It was a busy and filthy river. There was no way we were going to get the key back. Dad then grabbed me by the shin and said “shit, Paul look!” I looked down at his hand and he had a bright red mark in the exact shape of the key. It was a simple key so Dad thought someone could make a new key from just looking at it.
Amazingly we walked 50 yards down the road and found an English speaking key cutter! We went in and Dad showed him his hand and told him he needed a key cut to the exact shape. The man was very helpful and took several pictures and drew the exact shape and size of the key. He said it would take a few months to make a key from a scar but it was possible. Dad was happy again. We went into a restaurant and Dad had a knuckle of ham. It looked revolting but he made me try some and it was delicious salty bacon type meat! I had ordered a well done beef burger. When it came it was pink in the middle, still bloody even. If that’s well done I dread to think what ‘rare’ is!
It was bland and also hidden underneath it was a slice of tomato, loads of onions and lettuce. It was an abomination of a burger! And I think the bun was off because it was very crunchy on the bottom. Another 12 Euros wasted!
Dad said to me not to mention the key business to mum as it was going to cost £325 to get a new one made. I asked Dad why it would take so long for them to make a new one but he didn’t know. It should be ready for Christmas apparently.
Later in the afternoon we walked around shops. It was quite boring. They only seem to have poncy clothes shops here. I don’t know where these people buy their DVD’s or crisps. We got back on the bus, but not before seeing an old man fall of his bike and land on his face. The place is riddled with people on bikes, and they just go where ever the hell they want, even worse than in Austria. Luckily this time no cyclists crashed as a result of me. We also saw a man so drunk he crossed a road and fell over between 2 cars. I thought I would see a third accident, and that accident would be our bus crashing. But he just mounted the pavements several times.
We got back to the hotel at 4 o clock, so now were just sat round waiting for our dinner. Which apparently is mushroom soup. Followed by another hours wait then chicken and noodles. It better be worth the wait. I bet it isn’t! I’m going now to fill up on crisps that are a bit like Wotzits but made with peanuts. I assume they will be foul!
We have just got back from the evening meal. They actually had the soup, main meal and puddings all done and served within an hour and a half of each other i.e. it took an hour and a half for all three courses. Ridiculously long really. Mum would be furious if she were here. But it’s still faster than any other night. But the best/worst part about it was a chap was playing the accordion all the way through the food. So while I struggled to eat red liquid with 1 ‘bay’ leaf Cecil was bobbing up and down to ‘When the saints’. When out mail meal came Cecil got so carried away with singing along to ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain’ that he spat out a lump of chicken which hit an old lady on the back of the head. She looked round but Cecil didn’t realise what he’d done so he wasn’t even looking at her. I however was looking at her; she assumed I had done it. She gave me a filthy look. Most of the people on the bus are Scotch. And the Scotch are very quick to anger. Not like the Irishers or the Welshies. Well its about 70% Scotch and 30% Geordies. So a volatile bunch to be sure. But they do love a good old accordion sing along. I found it all quite amusing and embarrassing at the same time. A strange mix of emotions.
The Scottish woman who had the chicken hit her on the back of her head told her husband. He didn’t say anything to me or give me a dirty look. Maybe he hates her.
Tonight me and father watch a DVD, its ‘The toy’s story’ a rip off of the Disney ‘Toy story’ but it looks like a fun romp anyway!