A Travellers Tale.

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A Travellers Tale

Always eager for a bargain any particular deal, Mr Paterson, short plump, with a balding head, decided that once again the holiday to Sri Lanka was going to be on the cheap. Remembering that he’d read in the past in some irrelevant magazine that Pakistanis had a particular fetish for gold coins, Mr Paterson made it  his mission to come across some gold coins and strike up a deal with the Pakistani travel agency. Finally retrieving an exceptionally bulky bag of coins from a tiny back street shop in the Portobello Road, he made his way to a Travel Agent above the laundrettes in Lambs Connate Street.  Two Pakistani men ran the Travel Agent and as expected Mr Paterson was very susceptible to any convincing offer that came his way. The deal consisted of a change over flight in Karachi, Pakistan. Then on to Sri Lanka, this deal worked both ways.

So, once again Mr Paterson and his wife found themselves travelling economy class on a remarkably unusual airline that no one had ever heard of, which somehow only seemed to be surviving by the skin of its teeth. The deal had gone well for Mr Paterson; twenty gold coins in exchange for a trip for two for three weeks to Sri Lanka; the only slight annoyance was that they had to sit in transit for three hours at Karachi.

Once in Sri Lanka Mr Paterson’s weakness for bargains escalated to the extent that he began to invest in bundles of twigs for their “healing powers”. This was a particularly ingenious con that the local criminals inflicted on the new tourists and Mr Paterson was no different from any other stupid tight fisted Englishman. The greatness of Mr Paterson’s attachment to these healing twigs grew to the extent that he insisted on purchasing four bundles of fifty before they returned to England along with five hundred of the best French Gauloise cigarettes.    

As the plane descended into Karachi, Mr Paterson gathered all his precious twigs together, in eager excitement and desperation, constantly checking that no fragment of twig was left behind. Mr Paterson decided that leaving his precious twigs on the plane would turn the so far blissfully peaceful holiday to a chaotic end. As Mr and Mrs Paterson headed towards the Transit lounge where they were due to wait for six hours for their connecting flight to England,  Mr Paterson suddenly realised in utter disbelief that by some dreadful lapse he had left his precious five hundred packs of Gauloise cigarettes on the plane.  

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Throwing the ‘prized twigs’ to the floor, forgetting their implausible worth, Mr Paterson strode hastily around the transit lounge in search of assistance, and when none was found to the absolute incredulity of the thirty year old he strode onto the runway.

Right at that moment, Mr Paterson had one main aim in life and that was to find his dear cigarettes that by some terrible blunder he had left on the aeroplane. Owing to the fact that Mr Paterson had left the Transit lounge in such haste without giving his actions a second thought. The fat plump man was ...

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