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'Follow me' the creature said, 'and we shall ask the Gatherer.' So Stan followed into the murky depths of the river.
The Gatherer was busy sorting out his collection of bottles. 'Excuse me Mr Gatherer?' Stan coughed. 'But would you be able to tell me what this says?'
At sunset pour the blackest gloop from the depths of the river across the watery bank.
To be continued.
Well. The Gatherer. I remember when you could go up a metal outside staircase into a funny little 'shop' in Greenwich and buy scavenged bottles of all kinds. 'I 've got a nice little "Poison" here, love. My son found it on the foreshore last night,' that kind of thing.
It sounds fascinating - not to mention somewhere I would have ended up spending too much money on things I haven't got room for!
The prize acquisition was a Doulton stoneware Highland Whisky bottle, one of the first of a couple of cupboardfuls of Doulton Lambeth pots, until we stopped collecting, realising that the pots were beginning to take up valuable book space. (Minimalism? Never heard of it...).
I'm dangerously familiar with the books/other hoarded objects dilemma! I have managed to sneak a bookcase into my parents' house, which is keeping things at bay for the moment (a couple of decades after they got rid of me, they must be thrilled to have my stuff making its way back in!)
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