Crisp, my aged companion, loved old things. I’m sure it was the reason she kept me around. I was reliable, and she felt safe with me.
The arched bridge at CCC48 was one such structure. Her map detailed the history of the bridge going back to medieval times, the arch was a marvellous example of the architecture of the time.
“Just think,” she said “we are standing on a bridge that’s stood here for hundreds of years. Made to last it was.”
Crisp being naturally curious, ventured a step too close to the edge and before we knew it, she’d toppled into the pond.
I rushed to help her, thankfully, the pool was only a foot deep, and she was soon standing looking wet and bedraggled.
She let out a gasp, spat out a mouthful of pond and said:” Well don’t just stand there looking gormless, give me a hand.”