A Nostalgic Possession

Some time ago, I came into possession of an object, which precipitated a series of quite unbelievable events. Since that time, I have tried to brush the occurrences off as terrible dreams or some temporary feverish state but I can do so no longer. I now have to admit to myself that what I am about to describe truly happened and I must ask you to believe every word of it.

I have spent much of my working life as a dealer in vintage consumer goods. As a young man, my hobby was to collect items of packaging from long-forgotten brands, a packet of powdered soup, for example, or a tub of face cream. It seems odd, looking back, that I felt such profound nostalgia for a past I never experienced but, as I grew older, my hobby became an obsession.

After I left home, my first apartment was soon filled with these relics that were once commonplace for previous generations. My floor piled high with cereal boxes and beer bottles, radios and disposable razors until, eventually, I could contain the collection no longer.

I was at this point that I began to sell items off. I found other like-minded collectors online to whom I could sell, each with their own specific interests. One had an unrivalled display of 1970s bubble bath bottles, another filler his shed with late-20th century telephones. I established a network of sources who could scour the country on my behalf, attending fairs and markets to pick up items that may be of interest to my clients.

Visiting Hours

“Yes, I was sorry to hear that you were unwell. It was all so sudden. As soon as my secretary informed me you were down here, I rushed straight over.”

Max Galbraith paced the small room, staring sadly at the man on the bed. His expensive shoes clattered across the tiled floor and squeaked as he spun around at each end. He shook his head and tutted to himself.

“I mean, if it could happen to you, a fit, healthy man at the height of his powers, a real power broker in this city, well, it could happen to any of us.”

Max turned his gaze and looked up at the window. He reached up and grabbed on of the bars in front of the glass.

“Not that you can see from there, Adam, but it really is a beautiful evening out there in the city. It feels almost criminal to be stuck in here. But that’s mental illness for you. You don’t get to pick and choose when it arrives. And yes, I know, I know, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. Well, Adam, I’ve had a word with your doctors and they assure me that you are quite, quite unwell.”

Max stepped back over to the bed and crouched down beside Adam, who returned a glassy-eyed stare.

“Yes, that’s right, Adam. You’ve got a nasty illness called having information that I need. I do hope you make a quick recovery. From here, the treatment looks even worse than the illness.”

Maid For A Day

I've spent a bit of time this week thinking about becoming a maid and I couldn't resist putting together a "maid for a day" contract. I love the thought of turning up at someone's home, being presented with this to sign, and having to spend the rest of the day stuck performing their household chores. I'm just going to leave this here in case any of you can make us of this...

Between:

(1) ............................ (“the Employer”, “Master”, or “I”)

(2) putbackinnappies (“the Employee” “maid”, or “you”)

Terms of Employment:

1. Your employer is :.............................. . I agree to employ you in the capacity of maid on ............... between the hours of .......... and .......... .
   
   
2. Your normal workplace is :.............................. (“the household”).
   
   
3. Your duties are those that normally go with your job title including cooking and cleaning within the household. You must take on reasonable additional domestic duties when I ask you, to meet the needs of the household.
   
   
4. In the event that the duties outlined in paragraph 3 are not completed in satisfaction of the Master’s reasonable expectations, I will be entitled to take disciplinary action against you.
   
   
5. Disciplinary action, in the first instance, will consist of verbal scolding. Any further breaches of paragraph 3 will be punished with a clothed, over-the-knee spanking.
   
   
6. You will remain dressed in appropriate maid’s uniform at all times during contracted hours. At the Master’s discretion, you may be required to wear a nappy during contracted hours. You may change your nappy only with my verbal agreement.
   
   
7. You will treat the me with due deference at all times (including, but not limited to, referring to me by the titles “Mr. ............... ”, “Master”, or “Sir”) during contracted hours. Failure to do so will constitute a breach of paragraph 3 and will result in disciplinary action as set out in paragraph 5.
   
   
8. I will treat you with contempt and disdain (including, but not limited to, referring to you by the diminutives “girl” or “maid”), as befitting a maid of low social status.
   
   
9. You agree to provide an entirely non-sexual service. Any attempted or initiated sexual contact from either party to the contract will result in immediate termination of the contract.
   
   
10. I will pay you £4.20 per hour plus travelling expenses.

Employee’s Signature:.............................. Date:....................

Employer’s Signature::.............................. Date:....................

The Carnival

It used to be a real treat when a travelling carnival rolled into town. A little makeshift village would pop up overnight and people would throng the fairground. They’d buy candy floss, hook plastic ducks, catch a strongman performance. Then, as quickly as it came, the carnival would vanish, leaving nothing but a few food wrappers on the ground and divots where tent-poles had briefly stood.

These days, no-one’s really that bothered about the carnival. Crowds have been in decline for decades. They prefer to stay at home and have the entertainment come to them at a time of their choosing. Even more so as the Autumn evenings turn cold and damp.

Which how Charles Treadwell came to find himself in a nearly empty fairground one Halloween night. As he trudged through the soft turf, battling a bitterly cold drizzle, he reflected on how this wasn’t really his idea of fun. Even if the weather had been fine, this still wouldn’t have been his first choice for an evening’s entertainment. For a man more used to a meal in a fine restaurant followed, perhaps, by a challenging theatre piece, a night of hot dogs and sword swallowers felt a little tawdry and, frankly, beneath him.

A Close Inspection

As I approached the enormous metal gate, I didn't quite know what to expect. This place had one hell of a reputation. HMP Natum was one of the most feared of the new generation of private prisons. The governor supposedly liked to mentally break down the inmates before building them back up again. I'd heard stories of defendants begging judges not to be sent there. The odd thing was, though, none of my colleagues had ever found anything that would even remotely justify the terror it inspired.

Over the last couple of years, all the volunteers that went in had come back reporting that it was just a regular prison, albeit one with unusually high behaviour standard among the prisoners. I'd been a volunteer prison inspector for the monitoring board for a couple of years but this was my first visit to Natum.

Inspection visits to prisons are made unannounced and volunteers have the authority to demand access to any part of the building so the prison authorities could make preparations to cover up any irregular practices. Still, it didn't seem right that hardened criminals who'd been through the system throughout their lives were reduced to quivering wrecks at the thought of being sent to Natum. As far as I was concerned, I would spend as much time as I needed to find out what really happened within those walls.

The Party

He awoke slowly, groggily, just in time to see a hand passing gently back through the bars beside him. His thoughts took a moment to gather before he recognised the cot around him and remembered the hand's owner; Nanny.

“Come on little fella, it's time to get you up.”, Nanny said as she pulled up the blind, temporarily blinding him with the late afternoon glow. “We need to get you ready for the party, don't we?”

“Party?” Until now, Nanny was the only other person who'd seen him like this. When they first met, he'd mentioned, in passing, one of his fantasies. He'd always wanted to be treated like a baby in a room full of adults.