Just before we reached where we'd left the car, we passed a pub with an elderly chap, possibly the Town Crier, sitting outside. He nodded to us both, and addressed Wilson, saying, 'Hello young sir! You're not from these parts, are you now?'
I'm not usually in favour of W speaking to strangers outside pubs, but as I was there to keep an eye on him I nodded, and Wilson ran over to the man.
'What sort of a fellow are you, then?' the man asked. In reply Wilson handed him one of his Consulting Detective business cards and proceeded to tell him all about his holiday… followed by his life story… all apparently without stopping for breath. The poor man couldn't say a word!
Eventually I coughed and pointed at my wristwatch to let W know we should be heading off, and he said goodbye and ran back to me.
'Interesting chat, Wilson?' I asked.
'Cor, does that man know how to talk — I could barely get a word in edgeways!' he replied without a hint of irony.
We climbed into the car and, rather sadly, said farewell to Southwold.
In just a few hours we should be back home…
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