The Q Files: The Luddite Legacy
Scrabbletales is a new game invented by Mogmother and Optimist on the Run on 19/11/2017. It works like this...
Play a game of Scrabble (proper rules or not...) Record all the words used. Use all the words in a short story.
Mogmother then wondered what to do with her stories once she’d got them... Puzzle caches, of course!
Having created the Boy Named Q series in Shropshire and the first Q Files series in Staffordshire, Mogmother then went on to write another series.
The cache is not at the posted co-ords. Please do not go there; you will get wet! There is ample parking in residential streets near the GZ (obviously, be considerate). Please beware of muggles at the final location; litterpicking may be a good camouflage...
The cache is to be found at N 52... W 002...
In bulk In small In small In small In small,
And in To fall It is It is It was.
(Score for: word meaning small divided by 3, word for insect, word for a ring used in games; word for tool or weapon, word using z minus 1, word for annoying children x2, word for quantity of paper+ word for floor coverings, word for containers+4, word meaning stop temporarily x2)
[where ‘word’ is mentioned, this refers to words from the original Scrabble game, not extra ones added to make up the story. Ignore the possibility of Double Word Scores and Triple Letter Scores etcetera: just add up the letters.]
Words: nines seven brats drain heat at be halt dill dozed doth pout report named saw quoit caved axe weeps wee mega be bee quire fauna moa it lily yoga jars nice knife rayon rugs (lit) (Thanks to Adam and Rhona for use of your Scrabble set, Cae Amos bothy cache 2018)
FTF Two Nosy Parkers FTF
Chapter 11
The buildings in Horseferry Road had shops at street level and offices above. Mac pressed the buzzer on the intercom and waited. People went in and out of the newsagent’s shop, loitered outside the next, which sold rugs and storage jars, sheltering from the rain. He tried the buzzer again, and then someone carrying a yoga mat came up behind him and said, ‘You going in? Who d’you want?’
‘The Wildlife Trust-‘ he began, and found the door held open for him.
The office he wanted was on the top floor. He went up and up to find only a closed door labelled ‘LWT’ and ‘Back in 10 min’, but there was a seat on the landing so he sat down. There were pictures on the wall: a bee in a lily, a feathery dill plant, a fish with an exaggerated pout, drawings of a moa with pictures of fauna facing extinction. Mac admired them for a while, steaming a little in the heat, but before long he dozed.
‘How long’ve you been here?’ an anxious voice demanded. ‘We’ve been mega busy with the report- plans to drain that area that caved in- Coffee? Dave’ll be out soon-‘
Mac said that coffee would be nice, thanks, but he’d only come to collect something…
The teenager shook his head. ‘I don’ know nothin’ about that. Have a coffee…’
Feeling he was there under false pretences, Mac accepted gratefully and helped feed a quire or two of paper through a temperamental photocopier before Dave appeared.
‘Hi: sorry about that… You’re Bill from Cheltenham-?’
‘Er- no; I’ve come to collect something. Something someone left for Mr. Mackenzie…?’
They looked at each other; Mac grinned. ‘Anything I can do? It’s coming down stair-rods out there, and I’ve had some of your coffee…’
Dave grinned back. ‘Photocopying? Envelope stuffing? We’re emailing the members we’ve got addresses for, but that’s not all of ‘em…’
‘Suits me.’ Mac said, and joined the teenager at a desk in the corner.
‘I volunteered for another place once,’ Dave said, bringing over a new heap of envelopes, ‘where they didn’t bother to contact the members who didn’t have email. I printed about a hundred and fifty letters out, addressed the envelopes by hand from the records- I was new, then- and went to ask about stamps- and the manager threw them all in the bin and said people could pick up a printout from the front desk if they were bothered…’
Mac realised he was being watched keenly for his reaction.
‘I assume that’s partly why you left.’ He offered, folding printouts. ‘-It’s not fair, doing that, because people who don’t have email access still pay their membership fees like the others, so they ought to get the same deal as them…’
Dave seemed pleased with this response, though he made no comment: when they finally came to a halt with the mailshot ready for posting, he grinned at Mac. ‘Thanks for your help… Now, why are you here?’
Mac explained again, and Dave frowned.
‘I think I saw something in here that was named…’
He began to search through various drawers. ‘Mackenzie? This it?’ He held out a package.
Mac slit it open with his knife, watched by Dave and the teenager. Inside, pinned to a strip of shiny green fabric, was a brooch shaped like a tree.
‘What’s that?’ the lad demanded.
‘Not sure. The fabric looks like rayon, but… Is that an oak tree? It’s not the right shape for an elm or a poplar…’
‘”It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make man better be…”’ Dave quoted. ‘Could be an oak… well, thanks for your help. We could do with you on the team: you know how to work, unlike some of the people we get. Brats that won’t do this and won’t do that…’
Mac went back downstairs, wondering how many oak trees there were in London. Hundreds… Maybe Hammurabi could help; it was just about lunchtime, so if he went over Lambeth bridge, maybe they could meet somewhere on the Albert Embankment…
He tried ringing his friend, but had to leave a voicemail. Although the rain had stopped it was too wet to sit down anywhere, so he went slowly towards Vauxhall. A woman dressed up to the nines got out of a taxi and hurried into one of the buildings. A teenager in a hoodie printed with a skull and an axe slouched past, followed by a dog carrying a well-chewed rubber quoit in its mouth. Pigeons pecked hopefully at soggy chip papers.
What was it that Dave had quoted? Well, he’d got a quotation too: “I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping, while my guitar gently weeps…” That reminded him of Yellow Submarine and the three wee boys at Cleopatra’s needle and he grinned. What sort of noise did a sphinx make? It spoke: it asked riddles… Like Mingyu and Ladell with the badges: he’d had six so far. Where on earth was he supposed to go for number seven?