3 Mar 2008
I'd like to thank the mainstream media, and Matt Drudge for maintaining a complete news blackout over my whereabouts and my role (I was a junior Dossier Officer which involves working in the shadows drafting D-Notices and helping with senior officers' expense claims. In other words, very much in the front line.
Nevertheless, it was good to get back to England and to put my new Military Training to use in Bushy Park.
"What are you doing?" asked a small girl, kneeling down next to me.
I was in the fenced-off toddlers' playground, on my own, hunched awkwardly over a wooden pig, both hands thrust deep inside its belly, a drawing pin in my mouth, swearing under my breath.
"Oh, nothing" I replied, airily.
"Yes you are!"
I looked around for a mother, rather unsure whether or not I was hoping to find one. But no one seemed to be watching and I considered what to say. "Go Away" was most tempting, but risked tears, and in an instant I decided: the truth was always best.
"I'm hiding something inside the pig"
"Is it drugs?"
Two hours later twenty-five excited eleven year olds would swarm over the playground fence frightening babies senseless, knocking toddlers aside searching for this clue: for it was a Birthday Treasure Hunt.
Never, never do one of those. That little pig seemed to be made of mahogany, and with the awkward angle I couldn't get the pins in (my thumbs are still bruised); I had eleven more brightly coloured envelopes to hide and the party started in twenty minutes; it looked like it was going to rain.
"No," I said, wearily, "it's not drugs, in fact it's nothing interesting at all. It's just a .... well, it's a secret clue"
Her eyes widened with excitement, and she moved a little closer...