The North Pole
I would never have thought
of myself as a pioneering polar explorer. When
Mildred and I moved to our little retirement
bungalow in Yorkshire adventure was far from our
minds. Then, one day, a young lass named Ruth
called to see us from the International
Geophysical Survey.
It was like a school
science lesson. She explained that the magnetic
field of the Earth was caused by churning molten
iron at its core. Apparently, the position of the
Magnetic North Pole moves, and every few million
years it changes dramatically. Such a change had
occurred in the previous twenty-four hours, and
it now lay somewhere in our bungalow.
Ruth had test equipment and
found the Pole on the sideboard in the front room
- just next to George and Susan’s wedding
photograph.
At first, Mildred was
worried about having it in the house. ‘I don’t
want polar bears coming here,’ she said,
‘getting the hair off the carpets is bad
enough when our son, George, brings his Jack
Russell over.’
Ruth was reassuring. She
thought that polar bears would stay in the Arctic
with the ice. Mildred can’t abide penguins
either, but it appears they live at the South
Pole.
The Pole’s been no
trouble. Ruth and her colleagues visit now and
then to take measurements. Mildred likes to make
them cakes which they say are much nicer than
anything they used to get in the Arctic.
Compasses are no use, of course, but I know where
all our rooms are, so we don’t have call for
one. Having the Aurora Borealis in the back
bedroom has been nice, although Mildred insisted
I redecorate as the colours didn’t match the
wallpaper.
Sadly, Mr Jenkins over the
road lost all his racing pigeons. Ruth explained
that they navigate using the Earth’s
magnetic field. She said the place which now had
our old ‘magnetic signature’ was in
Spain, so they had all buggered off to the Costa
del Sol.
Explorers have had a hard
time too. A Norwegian expedition arrived where
the Pole used to be just a few hours after it
moved. They were expecting their pictures in the
papers after an eight week trek through blizzards.
Instead, the papers had photos of me and Mildred,
with her walking frame, having beaten them to it.
Gets our own back for Scott and Amundsen, I say.
Expeditions to the Pole are
now less challenging, us being on the 28 bus
route. One expedition did try to make more of an
adventure of it by picking a route through the
nearby council estate. They lost all their
provisions and equipment on the trek - partially
due to adverse weather, but mostly due to having
their sledge nicked. Might have starved to death
had it not been for the Happy Haddock Chip Shop
at the end of the road.
It’s been handy for
visitors though. We just tell then to keep going
north until they find us. We’ve got quite a
few friends and relatives down south - in all
directions.
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