Turnips

There was an odd scent that was carried with the wind this morning when I woke up. I spent the night at Ted's parent's house, and true to his word, the butter chicken curry was superb.
I knew that today I had to search further for the man that was posing as yours truly, but first I had to find out what that smell was.

It smelled like some kind of vegetable and naturally I asked Ted what it was. He told me that there were several fields filled with turnips at this time of year. The farmers grew them to feed to their cattle. Fields of turnips? This was something I had to see.
In place of grass was a huge mass of bright green leafyness. And the smell was even stronger. It wasn't so much a pleasant odour, but it reminded me of something, like home maybe, not that I ever had much of a home.

But I didn't let the marvel of turnips distract me, so I headed for the local council building to see if they knew anything about Black.

Although it may not be as great as a field full of turnips, the council building in Bighsville is still a sight to see. It was a round building made of brick and stone and had long, white banners streaming from the flagpole that stood outside. Apparently it is wedding season.

I asked inside if anyone knew of a Fennard Black. They said no, but checked a few records anyway. Still nothing. One man told me to ask at the police station. I told him I would even though I knew I wouldn't. The last thing I want is to be near a policeman. They're always probing for answers, no matter who you are, and there are things I'd rather they didn't know.
So I went back to Ted's parent's house.


Maybe I will have some better luck tomorrow.