🚀 go-pugleaf

The Roinn Oideachais was not especially pleased to meet A. M. Ward,
but, indoctrinated mannerliness of self's youth resurging, self
indicated by a shift in the direction of self's gaze, together
with a slight fluttering motion of the hand, that his presence
had been noted.  Within the confines of the narrow aisle where
the biscuits were displayed in the village shop, it would hardly
have been courteous of self to pretend to solitude, particularly
as the jangling of self's armour rendered impractical the quiet
exit which self might otherwise had hoped for.  Roinn had not
expected to engage in purchasing activities, but three hours of
straying lost around the castle, returning always in circles
to the portrait gallery, had left self hungry, and self had sadly
neglected to remove the sack containing self's high-energy glucose
drink from self's steed before granting it freedom.

Remembering that promptitude was one of the knightly virtues, Roinn
lunged at the first packet of biscuits the hue of the packaging of
which did not overly offend self's sensibilities and prepared to
depart the aisle, hunting in the inner right-hand pocket of self's
mail-shirt for the remains of self's stipend as self did.  Self's
mail-shirt having warped in the heat, this process took slightly
more minutes than self had bargained for, so self, mindful of
knightly adage #43, "Chat Up The Locals", coughed gently and
inquired of Ward as to the frequency of his, which is to say Ward's,
as opposed to self's, presence upon the premises.  Ward was somewhat
taken aback, as this was the self-same line he had been saving for
the occasion when he first encountered the camisoled one.  Dropping
the packet of biscuits whose best-before-date had eluded him for the
past few minutes, he murmured "urk", and clearing his throat, repeated
"urk", as he feared the vowel sound had perhaps verged on the
inaudible at first attempt.  Smiling kindly, Roinn remarked that
something in the set of Ward's hat reminded self of one self had
passed by on Brighton Pier a few months previously, and ventured the
deduction that Ward was a much-travelled man.  Ward admitted that he
had indeed been around and was not permanently resident in the village,
but had accepted a job as caretaker at the castle.  Upon hearing this,
Roinn took a step backwards into the disgustingly healthy oatcakes with
no added salt and half the average adult requirement of vitamin b, and,
quickly regaining self's balance, proposed an alliance.

As Roinn and Ward left the shop, Ward was grinning a grin which,
to an observer who had attended the screening of any old films with
cloak-costumed villains, might be seen as both evil and dastardly: this,
unless the observer was confused by the fact of Ward's face being
obscured by a paper bag.  Roinn was mentally composing self's
diary-entry for the day, torn, as always, between the wish to show self
in the best possible light and the knightly duty to minimise the extent
of the calligraphy so as not to have the decease of a rain-forest upon
self's conscience.  Silently plunging the depths of the biscuit-packet
which Ward was manually transporting, they turned up the path toward
the castle.