The Delights of the Early Morning (Addie)

[Stephen Colly]

Time: 06:30am
Place: Shipley Village, near Horsham, West Sussex.

A light breeze blew through the sleepy Sussex village. The sun was just about to rise over the rolling South Downs. It cast a thin, small ray of light across the roofs of the houses, a beautiful sight to see if one was up this early.

Someone was up this early. It was Stephen Colly, a young, British Corporal who was standing on a hill over looking the village and could see the beautiful sun rise. He shaded his face slightly with his hand and a soft smile played on his lips. How beautiful everything was, especially old English villages such as the one below. It was so different to France.

The boy had just returned from France, he had arrived in a troubled state and was given a week of leave. He had decided to take himself to a quiet village such as Shipley and have a few days on his own. He had booked into a hotel that had needed the business, and was looking after him like a saint. They didn’t mind he was up this early; he always used to be up this early when he was younger, helping his father.

The call of a magpie to its mate startled Stephen and he glanced around and up and saw the beady-eyed creature sitting on a branch. It cocked its head towards him and sounded again then stretched its wings and soared high above him into the early morning sky. It was soon gone. How easy it would be to be a bird, to fly around and not have to be troubled by the world at war…

Stephen rubbed his face with his hands. He was confused, he was so confused. He would be leaving Shipley in a day or so and would go and visit his parents and his horse. He didn’t know if he wanted to. To see the horse, of course he did but to see his parents and how they’d watch him and how they’d know something was wrong…that he couldn’t bare. His mother would fuss over how skinny he was and his father would mutter that he “was not a man.”

Until recently, Stephen had taken no interest in God and religion. It had been drilled into him from such a young age that he had almost forgotten about it but the thought came back to him – he had…what was the word…sinned… - yes, he had, he had sinned. He had these thoughts that were so wrong, so bad in his head from the moment he had set eyes on the man he loved, that he hadn’t known how to control them. He would have to visit the church when he got to Exeter and talk…yes. Talk to the priest there and see what he said.

He sighed and began to make his way down the hill. He hadn’t had breakfast and he hadn’t had supper the night before. He had arrived at the hotel and had gone straight to bed, exhausted by the long journey. He began to jog down the hill and then fell into a run, running down the hill and laughing with slight joy at the memories that came flooding back from his childhood of running down hills. He slowed up as he reached the gate and rested on it, laughing slightly, feeling refreshed. The clip-clop of hooves caught his ears and he looked around to see an early morning cart coming down the road. The driver in the cart was an old-looking farmer. Stephen waved as it passed and the man waved back, slight confusion on his face. Stephen laughed. He didn’t care if he looked odd and acted like a child, who cared? He didn’t…

He climbed over the gate and sat on the top rung, swinging his legs against the wooden bar. He stared out at the road and the houses, just staring – a soft smile playing on his lips as he stared, like in a trance.

[Catherine Olive Ross]

Shipley Village. A parish of scattered buildings a stone's throw from Horsham, and most definitely not within the jurisdictions of London. It was here that Catherine Olive Ross - better known as "Roses" to her fellow Land Girls - looked hard at a map, leading a sheep along with a rope. He was an old sheep, eight years old to be precise; a Jacob ram of the typical black-and-white colouration. Four-horned and a shaggy brute, his name was Gareth, and to the city of London and a village outside it, he was a celebrity. This was no ordinary ram - he was Gareth, the famous "Bomb-Sniffing Sheep of London", who had helped locate survivors during the London Blitz. He received his name after panicking near a pile of rubble, which an unexploded bomb had laid beneath; thanks to him, twenty people had avoid being blasted to bits. His bomb-detecting abilities had not stopped there, though, and over the course of the Blitz, he had found six other bombs not detonated.

So, what was the Bomb-Sniffing Sheep of London doing in little old Shipley? Why, he was on tour, of course. His bravery and obviously atypical nature for a sheep had gotten him on a couple of propaganda posters, and he was visiting the troops in the name of good will. Catherine - who had been given Gareth to own by his shepherd-turned-soldier owner - was due for a show farther to the south, to see off some of the London regiments as they were sent to war. Unfortunately, he and his owner had gone in the wrong direction, having travelled too far east of their intended destination. It would be another hour before Catherine could reach Petersburg, and she was nearly out of money to call for another ride. It was either breakfast or a taxi, and frankly, both human and animal companion were starving. It had been a long journey, after all!

Walking into the main part of town, Catherine immediately became the subject of looks. One reason was that she was leading a sheep into town, and the second was probably because she was black. In that day and age, racial tensions were still the norm, and it was likely Catherine would not be welcome in some places. Then again, some people seemed to show vague recognition, as if trying to remember where they had seen her before; perhaps they had seen Gareth before? He had been mentioned on the wireless, not to mention having been at a few events this far south.

[Stephen Colly]

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

The boy’s legs hit the metal bars of the gate quite loudly. It echoed across the field and the echo bounced off the houses. It was extremely early in the morning and he could see a few angry-looking faces staring out at where the source of the noise was coming from and Stephen just gave a small smile to any of the people who found where the source of the noise was.

He stopped hitting the gate when he thought he heard the sound of hooves. He had been around horses all his life but they didn’t sound horse hooves. They were quicker and lighter, a smaller beast maybe a goat, or a sheep. He leaped off the gate and landed softly on the ground, dusting off his hands and walking back towards the village centre, whistling as he went.
He came up alongside the buildings and lent against one of the red-bricked walls of one of the nearby houses. He saw what the hooves were and his second guess had been correct – a sheep was wondering down the road with a collar around its neck and a rope and at the end of that rope was a girl. She was black.

Strictly speaking, Stephen was too young and didn’t really care or know any thing about the racism in those days. He didn’t see why everyone was against a person if their skin was a different shade. He found black people quite amazing, they seemed to have such beautiful skin compared to the white people of Britain.

He laughed slightly and came towards the un-usual pair trotting down the road. As he came closer he saw on closer inspection that he recognised the sheep – it had been all over the wireless and in the bases about a sheep that could sniff out bombs…apparently.

”Hello. Lovely morning.” the boy said brilliantly as he stopped in front of the pair and knelt down to stroke the sheep, smiling up at the girl.

[Catherine Olive Ross]

A young soldier turned the corner, face youthful and with Corporal's chevrons. He greeted Catherine before leaning down to pet Gareth, who happily enjoyed the spot of affection. He nuzzled the boy's hand and face, his black muzzle now faintly greyed from age. Despite the fact he had become older, there was still a younger ram's twinkle in his eyes, made all the more apparent by the soldier's presence. The giddiness of the lad was infectious, and as he looked up to Catherine with a smile, the young woman grinned back at him.

"Good mornin' to you as well. I see you've made quite an impression on Gareth," said she. "He likes people a lot."

Speaking of which, more bystanders were now walking over to the sheep-and-lass duo. Their eyes showed they recognized the pair, and some of then even huffed in disbelief; the Bomb-Sniffing Sheep, landing in little old Shipley! A few more people approached Catherine, giving their greetings and bending down to pet the sheep. She could not help but grin wider, and straightened her posture into something a bit more professional.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a bid you a lovely morning. I and Gareth are just on a quick stop to Petersburg; we'll be here for a few hours. If anyone has any questions, I'm free to answer them."

"Mind if I take a picture, miss?" said one lad, Catherine just managing to lip-read his words, as he was on the edge of her vision. She nodded vigorously.

"Pictures are perfectly fine! Gareth loves the attention - he lives to serve Britain, after all!"

The man's camera flashed, as did a couple of others. Noticing that the crowd was beginning to hold up the sidewalk, she added, "Please folks, a little space! Let us go out into the open a bit more, eh? Or better yet, can anyone direct me to somewhere where Gareth and I can get breakfast?"