(no subject)
Time: March 12, 2003
Place: Lower Tadfield, Manor Lobby
Status: Public
Summary: Wensleydale arrives.
As he drove, Wensley fretted.
It wasn't as though this was an unusual action for the young man; indeed, one might go so far to say it came as naturally to him as a duck came to water. But the subject of his (lack of) employment, Wensley decided, had to be the most serious fret yet since he had started his Grown Up life.
There were many older, more experienced people in need of jobs, especially in accounting, he reasoned as he gazed out the window. But he had applied to a dozen other firms in the last two months: his CV was immaculate, he had graduated top of his class in university, and his supervisor at United Holdings [Holdings] PLC had promised him glowing refereneces as an apology for being let go with such little notice. And yet, still no responses. It wasn't so much the rejection or waiting that was bothering him (Wensley's favorite virtue had always been patience); no, he knew that if he had to be subjected to his parents' well-meaning smothering for one more day, he would go completely mad.
A flash of metal at the corner of his eye snapped him out of his reverie and forced him to slow down and actually look at his surroundings. His meanderings had left him in the countryside of Lower Tadfield, in front of the old Manor. Funny, he hadn't known it was up and running again. There were all manners of vehicle parked at the end of the long drive, including...a tank? Well, Wensley had always been a sensible boy, but it was a long-standing rule of the Them that you do not ignore interesting phenomenon. Wensley cautiously parked his car some distance from the tank, locked it, and walked into the Manor.