Throwback Thursday: ‘The Seven Swans Mystery of the Forgotten Soldier’ by Mel Anastasiou

When a fellow my age makes up his mind to pursue youthful dreams, he had better be one of two things. Either he must be wealthy, in top physical form, and retain a full head of hair, or he must be gifted with a supremely optimistic view of the world. I had the head of hair of the former and nothing of the latter. Nonetheless, I was on that June morning in Hertfordshire, the Garden County, creating a daring plan for my own future.

I was a fairly old fellow, setting out to do the impossible, viz. to get back the love of my far-off youth, who was living in America, and married to somebody else. The plan I was concocting involved several other people, who might not be quite so ready to risk their own endeavours in the pursuit of my own. It was up to me to see my plotting safely through. 

All for love, I told myself. I placed a cooler, vital to my scheme, beside the picnic table between the canal and the Seven Swans pub. The cooler stood open and ready for action along with several rolls of kitchen towel. I fiddled with a bag of plastic cutlery. This might sound dramatic, but so be it: I awaited my luncheon guests with mixed feelings of daring and trepidation. 

I had gone to great lengths to please with my selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. I was of course a dry alcoholic, equipped with all the regrets, past and present, of that particular condition. Still, the bottles of shandy were safe from me. The cans of Guinness were more of a temptation.