Part Two:

Oggin attacked his breakfast with gusto and was a little surprised when it fought back, one of the sausages tried to bite his finger. Another was so hard it bent his fork and Oggin decided to save it for later and tucked it in his trouser pocket before sliding his plate to the centre of the table, leaning back in his chair and slapping his round belly with both hands.

“That was wonderful my little Fanny Haddock....wonderful...is there any tea my love...?”

“Git it ya ‘sell ya baboon faced bassa...an’ no be sayin’ tha’ ma fanny is stinky...!”

Oggin dodged the knife Kajoa aimed at his head and rose to pour himself some tea from the constantly steaming pot on the range, he selected the least dirty tin mug, filled it and then returned to his seat. The tea was thick, black as the grate and appeared to contain several oak leaves and some fragments of insect, just how Oggin liked it.

“Have ye nae work to be goin’ tae ya lazy fecker..!”

“Of course my Rose bud...I shall be grubbing through Tookie the Boog’s midden today...”

“Oh...is that so....Well ye be careful tha’s all ye go grubbin’...an’ make sure she pays ye wi’ money this time too...!”

Oggin sensed one of Kajoa’s “little discussions” was about to start so beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen door and into the back garden. Through the now shut door, he could still make out the sound of Kajoa, continuing the conversation, on her own. The garden was about a hundred yards long and had a high hedge of Blackthorn on both sides, at the far end was a small, ramshackle shed next to a wicket gate. The whole end of the garden was framed by very tall trees, thrusting skyward out of a thick impenetrable growth of bushes. The area in between was given over to a collection strange pieces of unidentifiable machinery, most of which were rusting and in an obvious state of disrepair.

Oggin trudged toward the gate, taking care to avoid the small piles of cat poo strewn on the ground. One of the cats, a very large and moth-eaten ginger Tom, stared out at him from behind one of the machines with cold, malevolent eyes and gripped the huge rat in its mouth a little tighter.

“Don’t worry Ray....I don’t want your rat....I’ve just eaten...”

Oggin reached the gate and just before going through, called out in a loud voice.

“Good Morning Cyril...!!”

A thin and reedy voice replied from within the shed.

“Piss off Fuck Face......I’m Asleep!!!”

Oggin chuckled softly to himself, this was Cyril or as everyone else called him, The Sleeping Man. Anyone who ever called to see him was roundly abused and told he was “asleep”, he’d lived in that shed for as long as anyone could remember, in fact he was living there when Oggin was born, he was a sort of fixture, he came with the cottage, like the damp.

Oggin went through the gate and into the lane that led to the village, on both sides were stout hedges full of bird song and the rustle of hidden, small creatures. Gates of all sizes and types dotted the hedges from time to time, leading into the gardens of Oggin’s neighbours. Through one gate he spotted Mammie the Tosk, hanging out washing and surrounded, as usual, by a gaggle of small children, all talking at once. He waived a greeting but kept walking, he knew that a “Wee Natter” with Mammie could take care of an hour or more and the children would all start to call him ‘Daddy’ after about five minutes. Mammie never noticed that ‘her’ children never seemed to grow up and that some of them were sometimes Chinese or even Black.

The sun had climbed a little higher and was now really trying to spread it’s warmth to the ground. Oggin was enjoying the feeling of the soft, warm grass under his feet and soon reached the end of the lane. It opened out to the wide expanse of the village green, several sheep were grazing on the now gently steaming grass and crows were hopping after unseen insects and grubs.

Oggin cut the corner of the green and arrived at the cottage of Tookie the Boog. Tookie had arrived in the village some years ago, from the Land of Boog, across The Big Water. She claimed her husband had died in “an accident” and had moved to escape the memory, the other women of the village had concluded a different story. Her long blond hair, five foot eight inch, very slender frame, topped by an extraordinarily large, pneumatic bust helped fuel this idle speculation. The fact that she was much given to wearing short, tight skirts and low cut tops, simply poured neat petrol on the flames. Any man, single or married, seen even just talking to her was then the subject of deep suspicion and rampant gossip.

Oggin smoothed his beard, pulled down his shirt, put on his best smile and knocked the door, a soft brown voice came from within.

“Just a moment...wouldn’t ya know I was just in da bath...”

The door opened to reveal Tookie, she was almost wearing a bright red towel that started well below her chin and stopped well above her knees and she was dripping on the floor, she looked Oggin slowly up and down.

“Oh...Hello dere Oggin....is dat a sausage in yer pocket or are ya just pleased to see me...?”

“Er....er...it’s a sausage Tookie......just a sausage...”

“Dreary me and dat’s a shame so it is......Why don’t you creep round ma back and make a bit of a start...I’ll be out as soon as I get some clothes on...”

She flashed Oggin one of her ‘Tookie’ smiles and as she slowly closed the door he caught sight of the towel slipping to the floor and a soft “oops” from inside. With as much composure as he could muster, which wasn’t much, Oggin made his way around the side of the cottage to the midden trench and surveyed the task at hand.