I chose not to oor Kornies
I chose not to
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It seemed, however, that Miss Pascoe, who had seen the boys decline the chance of choosing their partners themselves, had no intention of letting the same boys “cherry pick” their partners from a shortlist; so I was not given the choice. Instead, “Miss” selected for me Jennifer Harvey, an attractive, quiet girl with a brown pony-tail. The reasons for her choice are unclear: Jennifer wasn’t the first, or the last, to ask for me. So perhaps “Miss” chose her for me according to some superior adult concept of mutual compatibility.
Kuv yw an venyn deg.langbot langbot
It seemed, however, that Miss Pascoe, who had seen the boys decline the chance of choosing their partners themselves, had no intention of letting the same boys “cherry pick” their partners from a shortlist; so I was not given the choice. Instead, “Miss” selected for me Jennifer Harvey, an attractive, quiet girl with a brown pony-tail. The reasons for her choice are unclear: Jennifer wasn’t the first, or the last, to ask for me. So perhaps “Miss” chose her for me according to some superior adult concept of mutual compatibility. Thus, you could say that Jenefer became my first girlfriend. We went together to the Christmas party. But I don’t remember that this relationship was consumated in any significant way.
Fatel yw an gewer?langbot langbot
While David loitered at the base of the tower, I lay on the uncovered platform – flat on my stomach to avoid being seen – and observed the road. I knew that, for obvious reasons, Captain Mengele could not let us go so easily – and I could not be entirely sure that the Sergeant, upon returning to the base, would not have been forced to divulge what he knew about where he had taken us. After all, he had risked a great deal simply to free us and could not be expected to put his very life on the line for us. (“Aiding the enemy during time of war” was still a capital offence at that time. It was still the firing squad for that sort of thing.) In any event, with about an hour of daylight left, I observed a convoy of, maybe, fifteen vehicles streaming out of the base and coming along the road to Scrub Hill. It must have taken all day to organise such a large search party and this, to my mind, confirmed that Captain Mengele did indeed want us back – or maybe just destroyed. So, the search was on. No problem. We could retreat to our bunker (our own personal ‘Helm’s Deep’?) whenever we chose – there was no rush. I continued to observe the convoy for a time. As it got closer, and I could observe the individual vehicles, I saw the entire convoy slow at a point in the road which was not far away. The leading jeep had broken down and the driver had simply waved the rest of the convoy on. So, it continued to pass him as he lifted the hood of his jeep. A cloud of steam rose immediately. Radiator problems, I guessed. If so, the driver would merely have to wait until the engine cooled sufficiently – and then refill the radiator with water from the jerry can that hung from the back of the vehicle. (One never refills a boiled-dry radiator straight away in case the red-hot engine-head cracks from the sudden change in temperature. Thermal shock, it’s called. That sort of damage cannot be fixed while the vehicle is still on the road. It’s a tow-away – and expensive – job when it happens. Does this sound like the voice of experience? Pass.) So, it was simple – just wait half an hour or so and the vehicle could limp back to base for repairs or catch up with the search convoy (assuming, as I did, that it was not going much further anyway.)
Res yw dhyn mos.langbot langbot
THE FRIDGE TRUCK There wasn’t much point in discussing matters with Charles. He was definitely in his own little world and happy to be there. Paul, however, was a different proposition. It is true that he was religiously self-deluding. After all, not everyone receives visitations from the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, he seemed basically rational and I desperately needed a sounding board to plan my (and David’s) next moves. So, when David and Charles both chose to rest, I took him aside. “How far do you think the plague has spread?” I asked. “You’re assuming it is spread only by zombie bite?” “Yes, no-one who was hiding in the Baillieu showed any symptoms unless they had been bitten. So, airborne or waterborne infection seems unlikely,” I said. “Well, the infection will have travelled only as far – and as fast – as the zombies,” replied Paul, not unreasonably. “So, how far can zombies travel in, what is it now? Nine days?” This sounded like one of those questions from Monty Python’s Flying Circus: “If you tie a coconut shell to its leg, how far can an African swallow fly in ...?” “Zombies can walk as fast as living people but the ones I’ve seen tend not to travel in straight lines. They just mill about in much the same place.” “Let’s think about that,” said Paul, warming to the conundrum. “You wouldn’t see the ones who had cleared off, would you? Because you yourself have stayed put – near the uni ...” A fair point. “...now let’s say a small but significant percentage of zombies choose to wander off in a particular direction and just keep going. How far would this vanguard of the infection have gotten by now?”
Res yw dhymm eva.langbot langbot
4 sinne gevind in 3 ms. Hulle kom uit baie bronne en word nie nagegaan nie.