Soft Mick...

“I smell sea.” Said Luna.

I didn’t initially, but then opening the window I could. A slight tang at first, but getting stronger as we moved closer to the warm glow in the distance. Another trip to the sea, and was it the same sea as before? I didn’t think this was the same road, but on this journey anything could happen. I knew that by now.

“I wonder if we’ll meet that girl again.” Luna pondered as she scratched at her ear. I hoped that it wasn’t fleas, fleas in the Puckmobile would be a Hell, no escape in its cramped confines. “I liked that girl even if she was a bit melty and then went all disappeared on me."

I wasn’t sure that I wanted to meet her again though; she was too sure of herself, she seemed to have all of the answers when all I had was questions and not very good ones at that.

The light was growing brighter and in the distance I could see what looked like chandeliers hanging in the almost night sky, bright and brash, the kind of thing you might find at a sixties party or maybe in a harem. “It won’t be a harem though,” I said to myself, “and even if it was with my luck I’d get to play the eunuch.” Luna sniggered a kitten snigger besides me, perhaps I hadn’t said it to myself after all – she didn’t seem short on the ways of the world though.

We were almost there, I could tell by the sound of the waves crashing on the beach below. I drew up on a hillock and, stopping the van, put on the handbrake and scrambled out.

I knew this place, I’d been here before. This was Penmon Lighthouse, close to the village on the south-east tip of the Isle of Anglesey, Ynys Môn in the Welsh, I’d never seen it like this before though – all lit up by chandelier, and such funky chandeliers to boot. Maybe it was a festival, a Saint’s day or something; I hoped that there would be beer involved.

I stood looking out to sea as the night got even darker. Luna must have know I was wary because looking up at me, the moon making her small white face even more translucently white, she said: “Just go with the flow. We’re just got to where we were going, enjoy – it looks like we got somewhere good.”

I smiled down at her, she really needed to improve her English.

“Soft Mick will be here in a minute.” She sighed.

“Soft who?” I replied. But before Luna could answer my question the lighthouse’s foghorn began to sound below.

“I can’t see any fog.” I muttered, and from high up by the lighthouse light a voice called in-between the rhythmical blart of the horn.

“There’s always fog, it’s just that sometimes you can’t see it. Now come across, before the tide comes in.”