The next day I felt I was getting into a routine. I got up early, helped Dora around the farm, had another riding lesson, tried not to fall in love with Dora and tried to avoid Slugger’s cooking. When everyone else was sitting down to lunch, I grabbed some of the fresh fruit I’d bought yesterday and headed off past the bigger of the two lakes. I made a short detour to see the smaller lake, which looked exactly as it had in 2010, and then continued uphill past the hawthorn hedge until I reached Wike Lane. I passed the forge, which was in good repair with the petrol pump in working order. I noticed a poster, stuck to a telegraph pole, advertising a jousting tournament. Then I found what I was looking for - an old, red telephone box. I inserted 2p and dialled Maidstone 37916. Once again, after the pips, I got the operator’s voice:
“I am sorry. That number is unobtainable. I can put you through to the Tockwith Weekly Examiner, Docherty’s Coal Merchants, Clegg’s Public Address Systems, Wallace Arnold Coaches, Ed Foley the Greengrocer, Pilkington’s Bakeries…”
I replaced the receiver and went for a stroll up the lane. I knew from my visit to the area in 2010 that I would soon enough come to a T-junction, and if I turned right there would be some houses and a parade of shops. But, strangely, as soon as I had gone a few yards from the phone box, everything disappeared from view. All I could see was white mist stretching in front of me for infinity. Below me, the ground was also white – I felt I was walking on air. I turned back towards the phone box and suddenly everything became green and leafy again and once again I had tarmac under my feet. This was bizarre. I tried walking up the lane a couple more times, but the same thing happened. Feeling puzzled and frustrated, I strolled back to Follyfoot, where I saw Ron in the yard.
“Cheer up, mate! It may never happen!” he said.
“Look, Ron, I’d like to have a chat with you…”
Suddenly I heard a rustling sound coming from the direction of the farmhouse. Looking over my shoulder, I realised that the house and the Lightning Tree seemed to be going out of focus. Wondering if there was something wrong with my eyesight, I turned back to face the blue double doors of the barn, but they were perfectly clear. Glancing back at the farmhouse, it now seemed as if I was looking at it through a misty PVC shower curtain, and the voices of Dora and Slugger, that I had heard quite clearly from where I was standing, now sounded distant and distorted.
“Ron, what’s happening?”
“We’ve got a Viewing!” he relied. “Now, mate, you’d better get in there and shut the door!” He pointed to the barn. I did as I was told. What did he mean? Was somebody coming to view the farm with the intention of buying it? If so, why was my presence so unwelcome?
I waited in the barn. Time seemed to be passing very slowly. Then, faint and distorted but instantly recognisable, I suddenly heard the opening bars of the song “Lightning Tree”. Mystified, I clambered onto a pile of hay bales to reach a small dusty window. It was thick with cobwebs but gave me a good view of the yard. I couldn’t believe what happened next.
First of all Dora walked out of the stables with Copper, paused by the tree and then walked out through the gate. She was followed by Steve, who came from around the other side, looked about him in a lost sort of way and then wandered off as if in a dream. A few moments later Ron and Slugger appeared, Ron chasing Slugger around the tree and grabbing his hat. As the two of them walked off arm-in-arm the Colonel arrived, shook his head and took out a tobacco pouch. He was just lighting his pipe when the music faded out and I lost sight of him.
I stumbled down from the hay bales as Ron came in through the double doors. “It’s OK, mate”, he said. “I’m not in this one. We can go off to the old Clap Gate and have a couple of pints”.
“Not in this one? What do you mean?”
“Cor blimey, mate, don’t say you haven’t realised where you are?”
“Follyfoot, of course!”
“I reckon I should show you this!” Ron took me into the strange little room just outside the big blue doors of the barn. I’d been there when I visited the farm in 2010, but it now looked quite different. On one wall was what looked like an enormous computer screen, with columns of letters and figures flickering in green on a black background. Below the screen were some mysterious looking chrome knobs and switches, a few coloured light bulbs and a mass of wires. On the floor was a large machine that I realised must be some sort of printer. A roll of wide, green-and-white stripy paper was advancing through it. The paper came to a halt and Ron tore off the end of it.
“Look here! It’s that Loopy again. She’s watching ‘Out of the Blue Horse’ - mind you, all she ever does is drool over Steve! Now, we’d better get offski. Follow me!”
Walking slowly and cautiously, as if we were scared of being discovered, we went back through the barn and out to the meadow beyond. Ron’s motorbike was leaning against the barn wall. “Hop on, mate!” me said, and, after he'd kick-started the Triumph Tiger Cub, I was off with him, riding pillion to the Clap Gate Inn.
I ordered two pints of the local bitter, handed the barmaid one of my old £1 notes and was surprised to get 70p in change. I went over to Ron, who was sitting on his own in a corner. I was relieved. I was worried that he might have met up with Lewis or someone.
“Cheers!” said Ron.
“And the same to you!” I said. “Now, Ron, how on earth did I get into this?”
“I dunno, mate, but you’re not the first one who’s turned up in Follyfootland.”
“What do you mean, Ron?”
“Well, there was this bloke called Moggy. He spent quite a bit of time here. He even chopped off a little bit of the Lightning Tree and pulled off some of the wallpaper from the Colonel’s study as a souvenir. Dora was livid when she found out. Luckily I found a spare roll in the loft and pasted it over the gap”.
“But that’s amazing. I’ve met Moggy. He even gave me some of the wallpaper. But he didn’t tell me he’d got it that way!”
“If he had”, replied Ron, “would you honestly have believed him?”
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t in Yorkshire in the early seventies – well, not really, I was actually inside Follyfoot The Series! So that was why there had been nothing beyond the phone box - my universe was confined to places that had actually appeared in the programme... Yet Moggy had evidently been here before me and he’d got back.
“How did Moggy get back home, then?”
“That’s for you to find out. Now – I’m ready for another pint. Oh - and I can just see my mate Lewis coming in. Get a pint for him as well, and bring us some crisps - cheese and vinegar flavour…”