| I wasn't particularly looking for Janner when I | | | | Janner raised his glass in recognition. It was normal |
| wandered into the Trevelyan Arms for a pint of | | | | to buy him a drink...well why not? He'd provided us |
| Geoffrey's old and filthy. I was actually having a | | | | with years of entertainment. Perched up there on |
| hard time with the Telegraph crossword, not an | | | | his stool, resplendent in a pair of tatty jeans, an |
| unusual occurrence. In fact three or four of us | | | | old fishing smock covered in paint and yesterday's |
| would gather early doors in the 'Trev', ostensibly | | | | breakfast, he was a tourists dream of a |
| for a symposium on clues but in reality an excuse | | | | Penzance Pirate, which is what he is... a latter day |
| to swallow a few 'heart starters' and get out of | | | | one anyway. |
| the house quickly before our respective wives or | | | | 'Not a bad year for the daffs Janner' I said, |
| bosses found us something to do. | | | | thinking of the tons of daffodils that Cornwall |
| 'Morning Janner', I said, spying him propping up the | | | | exported every year. 'You done any pickin' lately?' |
| bar, half perched on his favourite bar stool. | | | | 'Getting' too old for that game my bird,' he took a |
| 'Mornin' my bird,' he replied, swinging round and | | | | huge swig of ale,' plays 'avoc with me 'artheritits' |
| getting his size twelve sea boots caught under | | | | 'Only thing what plays havoc with your arthritis is |
| the brass foot rail. 'T'is a bit quiet 'ere this mornin' | | | | when you 'ave to put your 'and in your pocket |
| he spluttered through a bushy black beard | | | | for a pint,' quipped Geoffrey. This was true |
| compacted in beer froth. | | | | enough. Rumour had it that Janner did buy a |
| Search Engine Marketing Specialist | | | | round of drinks on his stag night, but that was |
| Since 1995 SEO/SEM tools, training, and | | | | twenty five years ago and lost in the mists of |
| professional "full service" Search Engine Marketing | | | | time. |
| help at very affordable rates. | | | | The door opened and Janner looked round, |
| 'Well it's only half ten', I said, 'in half an hour you | | | | sensing a victim. His hawk like nose ravaged by |
| wont be able to move'. | | | | wind and sun, not to mention beer and rum, |
| I knew what Janner was up to. He was short of | | | | sniffed the air. It stuck out of a froth-encrusted |
| money again. The tourist season was just starting | | | | beard that could have housed a flock of seagulls. |
| down here in West Cornwall and tourists were | | | | The black Celtic eyes twinkled with anticipation. |
| the lifeblood of the community, in more ways | | | | Two girls in their early twenties gingerly walked in. |
| than one. | | | | They were obviously cyclists, mini lycra shorts |
| 'Morning Kit' panted the Landlord, wheezing with | | | | and plastic head guards gave the game away. Un- |
| exertion as he appeared head first out of the | | | | hooking two enormous back packs they both |
| cellar, blue veins bursting out of his forehead like a | | | | showed a remarkable amount of tanned thigh. |
| map of London's underground. '...Wont be a | | | | 'Can we 'ave two cokes please?' asked the taller |
| minute, just changed the barrels over'. | | | | and blonder of the two, in what was obviously a |
| 'Don't worry Geoffrey', I said, 'just escaped from | | | | Germanic accent. |
| Laura, she thinks I'm gardening.' | | | | 'Of course my pretty,' said Geoffrey, a normal |
| 'scaped have ee', mumbled Janner 'I got my Elsie | | | | Cornish greeting for anything on two legs... and |
| down Brent's farm sortin' bulbs. Keeps 'er out o' | | | | sometimes four. 'Would you like ice?' 'Sank you' |
| harms way', I knew what he meant. He could | | | | said the other. |
| stay in the pub all day, spinning tales of Cornish | | | | 'Now where is it?' said Geoffrey after opening |
| folklore to any tourist that would buy him a drink | | | | two bottles of Coke and pretending to look for |
| while his long suffering Elsie provided the | | | | the ice bucket. He knew there wasn't any. There |
| wherewithal to live. Janner was a local institution, a | | | | never was. 'I'll just get some from the kitchen . |
| kinder soul you couldn't wish to meet; he'd do | | | | Won't keep you waiting my lovers.' ...another old |
| anything for you, especially if it involved the price | | | | Cornish cordiality. |
| of a pint or two. You could hire Janner for a days | | | | 'I'll get it' exploded Janner jumping of his stool, |
| odd jobbing or to make up the crew on a fishing | | | | sensing an opening, 'I'm going for a slash anyway.' |
| boat for the promise of a nights supping. | | | | 'Don't bother, I'm on me way.' said Godfrey, |
| 'Usual Kit?' asked Geoffrey, his face returning to a | | | | walking through to the kitchen to look for the non |
| more normal, all over red ochre posture. | | | | existent ice. |
| 'Thanks, and put one in for Janner.' | | | | |