The Power of One (or two,) bars of chocolate

at the cost of two bars of chocolate, I got my police report, which
means that SOPAC can now claim insurance and buy me a new laptop.

I have been dropping by the police post regularly for over a month, asking if the report was ready yet.  Before I went to NZ I dropped by to tell them of my intended absence, gave them some bikkies, and suggested I might bring some chocolate back with me.  I hoped it might be an incentive. 

Yesterday morning, following an intimation from the day before that my report actually would be there, I called in at the post before I went to work (and after the LTA man came to inspect the bike).  After a brief search ConstableM said she had the report ready but could not find it.  I gave her a bar of choc anyway.  That evening, after dark, I heard my name being called from outside my stalag walls.  Opening the gate I found SergeantS with a piece of paper in his hand.  It was he to whom I had "promised" the choc before I flew to NZ.   I wonder if he shared the biscuits?

His first words were "Where’s my chocolate?" then he explained he had taken the report home with him to be sure it would get to me. 

I fetched out another Whittaker’s Almond Slab and Gifts were exchanged with a handshake. 

"Set". as we say in Fiji. 

About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
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