The Virtual Harbour Master is becoming gravely concerned that our party guests are 'all at sea' in more ways than one! Of course, we should all be most concerned for Mistress Agnes who has appeared throughout to be completely innocent of the dangers in which she places herself! So far, she has run the gauntlet of the 1590 harbourside of the port of Bideford (and can count herself lucky to have retained her virtue), and now she appears to be on board a pirate ship, and literally letting her hair down! Perhaps the pirates will be seduced by her charm and innocence, and (full of Christmas spirit and goodwill) deliver her unharmed upon the shores of Godrevy... or perhaps not! Meanwile, the three farm lads who took the Kings Shilling at the Prince's Launceston Castle will be of little use. Not only do they not know the way past Jamaica Inn on the road to Godrevy, but they were already suffering from the effects of Doombar ale (which is why they took the shilling in the first place, in order to buy more ale). So Mistress Agnes, put your hair back in a coif, lock the cabin door, divert the crew by starting a small fire next to the gunpowder store, and slip away in the ship's skiff the moment you see the lights of Godrevy! At least we have no such fears for Mistress Jan (M) who has, at least, reached Mousehole... although, as the good-hearted and honourable person responsible for Godrevy, I must warn her that she may find that leaving Mousehole without leaving a substantial 'donation' of the queen's coinage in a 'Mousehole Lights' plastic bucket may be impossible. Indeed, the excuse that she has already made a substantial donation to another plastic bucket further round the harbour will not be deemed acceptable, and my rival harbour master will ensure that Mistress Jan is unable to leave his jurisdiction until she has emptied her pockets and all the plastic buckets are full of coinage On the other hand, the other Mistress Jan (D) raises our concerns because she appears to have missed the Moose Sleigh - now totally out of control and circling the Arctic, with a frozen Mistress Connie hanging on to the tail of the lead moose. Not a pleasant place to be, especially when the mooses / meece relieve themselves (although if Mistress Connie has the wit to save the urine, then Mistress Agnes can doubtless use it to fix the purple dye of her flamboyant attire). So who does that leave? It is becoming hard to tell, because my Harbour Master's harbour log is becoming hard to read - tattered by the wind, and the ink blotted by the everlasting rain sweeping at gale force off the Atlantic Ocean. Furthermore, I was out on the rocks with my telescope looking out for you all, with my flare gun loaded with red and which sparkly flares (like giant party poppers), when a lunatic holiday-maker or some such went roaring past in a speedboat. I thought these characters with their out of control speedboats had all gone home at the end of the summer, but just as I raised my telescope, this boat soared from the water, lifted by a giant wave, and crashed over my head with motors whining. Shouting crazily above the howling wind was a strong Cornish accent (which I can only assume was the skipper) screaming 'Make way for the James Bond Zodiac Commando Boat' as the boat disappeared towards St Agnes, further up the coast, loudspeakers booming 'Bah-Bah Bah, Bah Bah-Bah, Bum Bah Di Bum' like an ancient Ford car driven by an adolescent youth. As I wiped the spray from the cracked lens of my telescope, I'm sure that in the stern of the inflatable I spotted a familiar famous movie face and voluptuous body in a skimpy and revealing 'dress' which hardly seemed appropriate for the weather conditions. Perhaps they were on the way to a surfer's fancy dress party in St Agnes? So we appear to be missing Mistress Lorna, and some parrots, although I've already ordered in some purple sequins off Ebay in case (when she eventually arrives) she is foolish enough to repeat her previous indiscretions on Bodmin Moor. Oh dear, I am worried about some of our guests, and how they they will behave once they have some Cornish Mead inside them! Fortunately, although my Godrevy Harbour is somewhat perilous, the lighthouse itself is surrounded by a circular wall, and so the risks to party-goers should be minimised (and the wall should stop our inebriated musicians escaping with the alcohol). Ah... musicians... forgot them, I'd better see who I can rustle up from my contacts around Cornwall. This message and any attachments are confidential and may be legally privileged or otherwise protected from disclosure. If you are not the recipient please email the sender and delete this message and any attachments from your system. If you are not the intended recipient you must not copy this message and attachments, or disclose the contents to any other person. Although we have taken steps to ensure that this message and any attachments are virus free, We can take no responsibility if a virus is actually present. 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