January 2013
It was 1748 and, following the disastrous Battle of Colchester, Sir Richard Stevens was fleeing for his very life. He already had a price on his head and, as there was nothing more he could do on that bloody battlefield, he reasoned that all he could do was take to his heels and try to find a hideout till the heat of pursuit from Cromwell's Ironsides had died out.
Suddelny the ground seemed to open up before him and he found himself falling into what appeared to be an underground passage. Since there was nothing to be gained from making his way back to the mouth of the passage, and since encountering Roundhead troops hunting survivors of the battle, Sir Richard decided to follow the narrow passage and hope there was an exit at the other end.
The tunnel grew darker as he felt his way along its muddy walls till, after what seemed an age, he began to see faint beams of light. Eventually he was able to discern what must be a hole leading to the outside. Clambering out of the hole he blinked as the bright sunshine smote his eyes.
When his eyes adjusted to the light, he felt as if he had sailed across the seas and landed in another country. He found himself in an area of grass with a road such as he had never set eyes upon before.
It was perfectly straight and for some unaccountable reason had perfectly cut slabs of stone running alongside it as far as the eye could see. Moreover, there was a metal post with a white circular sign on it and a black line diagonally across it. Captain Stevens could make no sense of this and decided to cross this strange black road with white lines down the middle.
Just as he started to walk from the unusually well trimmed grass onto the road, a large red object hurtled along the highway from out of nowhere, as it seemed to Sir Richard, at a speed far faster than any horse he had ever seen. It seemed to be some sort of carriage as it had four wheels, but as there were no horses pulling it, what means of locomotion were propelling it onwards?
Sir Richard barely had time to register these impressions as he was naturally compelled to regain the safety of the grass verge. He scarcely had time to get his breath back before more of these strange machines hurtled past him in both directions. As if this wasn't astonishing enough, some appeared to have strange music emanating from them, but with no apparent signs of any musicians inside the carriages. By now Stevens had concluded they were no pulled by horses but were somehow controlled by a man or even a lady moving a wheel in the manner of a ship's captain.
He decided that it would be near suicidal to attempt to cross this devil's highway and therefore his only recourse was to follow the grassed area to wherever it led.
Eventually he came to a smaller road alongside the main highway which contained several small dwellings, many with these horseless carriages outside them and some even on the householder's land right in front of the dwelling!
Sir Richard noticed a youth coming towards him wit5h some sort of device clamped to his head, even covering his ears. Once again he seemed to hear a peculiar kind of music, but could see no musicians anywhere around. The youth was dressed in an outlandish costume, the materials of which he did not recognise. He looked more likely to be a Roundhead supporter than a Royalist.
'Good morning, young sir. Prithee tell me where the nearest inn is situate, that I may sup and also procure a fine steed?' enquired the cavalier.
'You're on your way to a fancy dress do, right?' the young man asked.
'I know not what you mean, is the King's Head inn far from this Godforsaken place?' Sir Richard ventured, almost in desperation.
'The King's Head?' said his companion. 'Yes, that's only half a mile up the road.'
Sir Richard heaved a thankful sigh. Sanity and civilization were almost within reach.
'Carry on till you get to the crossroads, then turn right at the lights, left at the roundabout, then go under the subway and make for the big Tesco ahead of you, but just before, turn left by the Indian.'
'Enough, enough, good sir. I know not what lights you refer to, nor to what fairground with its roundabout and I cannot possibly conjecture what a 'subway' or a 'Tesco' are. Nor can I imagine what a red Indian is doing in our town, not why you imagine he would be content to remain in the same position the live-long day.
'Good sir, I feel the only thing I can do is betake myself back to the passage whence I came. Methinks I would rather take my chance with Cromwell's cropheads than stay in this mad realm.'
So that is just what Sir Richard did, but, needless to say, when he recounted the tale of his adventures in 21st Century Britain to his Cavalier cronies they could only assume he must have indeed found his way to the King's Head, had one too many there and dreamed the whole thing!