The February Church Trip continues.

A Series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

 
A statue is fine, too.

"What

a night," Gordon groaned, as he sat down at the breakfast table with

Ahmed and Barry. "I've never endured hell such as this. You'd get better

treatment in prison than this hotel!"

"Fancy a ghost choosing to haunt your room," Barry chuckled. "Not sure who I should feel more sorry for, you or the ghost!"

"It's not funny Barry! I was almost bloody shitting myself. It was terrifying!" Gordon snapped back.

"Aye, the sight of you in your y-fronts is enough to terrify anything!"

"That must be why it never followed you into our room," Ahmed interrupted, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Presently,

Jenna and Reverend Morris entered the dining room. "Morning boys! Ooh,

so you saw the ghost too? Simon and I saw him, the headless preacher!"

"Yes, he just appeared in our room when we were er,” Reverend Morris began, and then he started to blush.

"Unpacking

our bags," Jenna continued. "There he was, just standing by the side of

the bed. I was so scared!" She added, lying of course.

"We didn't see any ghost, but the washbasin in our room doesn't work," Josh said. "The water won't come out. Just black stuff!"

"Same here," Gordon replied. "I got a sink full of soil!"

"According

to an old bloke I met in the lounge, it's not soil at all, but

gunpowder." Norman said, placing a plate loaded with what looked like

inedible food on the table.

"Gunpowder?

That's bollocks," Barry laughed. "You're not going to eat any of that

are you? I'd say there's more toxic waste on your plate than in

Chernobyl."

"Hmm,"

Norman poked at the carcinogenic-looking sausages, which were virtually

cremated. The bacon, if one could call it that, was not so much

swimming in oil but drowned in it. The scrambled egg looked worse.

"Don't eat any of that scrambled egg," Gordon said. "Apart from looking like dog puke, it tastes like it too."

"Thanks,"

Norman grimaced, pushing the plate away. "Suddenly I've lost my

appetite. I think, I'll skip breakfast and buy something to eat later.

Reverend Morris looked at Jenna and shook his head. "Well, maybe the trip to the museum will be more, enjoyable?"

She smiled back and squeezed his thigh under the table. "I'm sure it will."

The small group boarded the minibus, ready for the short journey into the center of Epworth.

"What's this place we're going to?" Jenna asked, as Reverend Morris checked his smartphone.

"Well

unfortunately, the Old Rectory, which is the birthplace of John and

Charles Wesley, is currently closed for the winter season. It reopens in

April."

A chorus of groans echoed through the bus.

Gordon

rolled his eyes. "Oh this just gets better, Vicar. What travel agent

offers holidays to see a museum which is closed until April, in

January?"

"Oh Simon, this is so disappointing. I really wanted to see the birthplace of the Wesleys!" Jenna sighed.

"I

know, I know. I'm disappointed too. As a compromise, there is another

museum a few miles away, called Epworth Fields Museum. It's small, but

there are some great 17th and 18th century exhibits there, so that's

where we're heading."

"I'd have more fun wandering round Tesco," Gordon muttered to Barry."

"I'd have more fun with the vicar's wife," Barry replied.

"Oho! You've changed your tune. What happened to 'dream on, she's way too old for you?' You're older than I am!"

"Yes well, that was before." Barry paused.