Image via Wikipedia

“Where the Hell are we?” exclaimed Pam, getting to her feet.

“Don’t ask me!” frowned Nigel.

“Nor me!” agreed Sarah, in her Irish accent.

Nigel had suddenly found himself sitting on someone’s settee. Pam and Sarah were located in adjacent armchairs. All around them was a hotchpotch of assorted furniture, all scattered wantonly on an old cobbled street! It was as though the residents had just thrown their furniture out in the street and ran away! They were in an upward sloping cul-de-sac, with an old primary or infant’s school at the top. Looking up the street, they were flanked on the left by five terrace houses. To the right was a large grey-stoned building housing about three homes, surrounded by compact gardens. Everything bathed in glorious sunshine.

Suddenly their friend Dave emerged from terrace house number four, the third house down from the school!

“What are you lot doing here?” he asked.

“I’ve no idea,” replied Pam, “Do you know where we are?”

Dave: “Yes I do! This is Oaklee Road, in Workham, a suburb of Lionby. I was brought up here up ‘til I was about eleven! All these houses were demolished in the early sixties.”

Nigel: “They don’t look demolished to me Summers!”

Often, when Nigel wanted to make a point, he would use Dave’s surname this way.

Dave: “My God, this is a realistic dream!”

Pam: “Dream? It’s real enough to me Dave!”

Dave: “Is that so? And how do I know if any of you three are ‘real’, eh?”

Sarah: “We could say the same about you!”

They all looked at one another, rather perplexed to say the least.

Pam: “Okay, Dave, so why is all this furniture scattered all over the street? And where the hell is everybody?”