Retford

So here you go.

This week's question comes from Matt in Retford.

"Hello, team.

Loving the podcast.

Right, uh, I will-- I'm going to pitch this in the exact same way to, to you that I did to John, so I'm gonna say this, I, I think this is a really good question.

I'm glad I don't have to answer it, but I, I do like that it's a very good question.

So this week's question comes from Matt in Retford.

He says, "Hi, team.

dropped the poppies.

Oh, that was at Retford.

Was that at Retford? That was at Retford.

There was another one at Worksop.

But, yeah, the one at Retford was good.

I remember when they did

the poppies and the fork fell out.

Then from Bedford's peaceful nook our pilgrim's progress still we took until we slackened up our pace in St. Neot's market place.

Next day the motor flying fast through Newark, Tuxford, Retford passed, until at Doncaster we found that we had crossed broad Yorkshire's bound.

Northward and ever north we pressed, the Bronte country to our west.

Still on we flew without a wait skirting the edge of Harrowgate, and through a wild and dark ravine as bleak a pass as we have seen until we slowly circled down and settled into Sattle Town.

I was a lodger they used to have, the one they threw out, the one that Nora used to call Uncle Ted.

And the driver of a bus that runs between Newark and Retford, a small town about 25 miles away.

He said he remembered a child with a slovenly middle-aged man on the bus that left Newark at 4:45.

He did not know the child, but his description of her clothes corresponded with the dress and coat she was known to have been wearing, but we couldn't find Nora Brady.

I showed him sufficient cause, and he gave me Peters' muddy clothing.

I posted them to Bernard and sat and waited.

Finally, a telephone call was put through from Retford to me.

It was a very short one.