In the quiet, hill-draped village of Holmfirth, time didn’t so much march forward as it did lean against a stone wall and have a bit of a rest.
stood by the bridge, checking his pocket watch for the third time in two minutes. He was wearing his usual expression of disciplined disappointment. Beside him, Compo was occupied with a more pressing matter: trying to extract a stray toffee from the depths of his tattered pocket while simultaneously preventing his wellies from filling with river water. Clegg just leaned on his bicycle, watching a single leaf float downstream with the intensity of a man observing a high-stakes horse race. Watching the ClockLast of the Summer Wine : Sea...
The trio began their slow ascent up the lane, past . Ivy was outside, shaking a tablecloth with enough force to dislocate a shoulder. She glared at them as they passed, her silence more terrifying than any shout. In the quiet, hill-draped village of Holmfirth, time
Foggy looked at the toffee, looked at the horizon, and finally sighed. He sat down, took a small piece, and for the first time all day, stopped watching the clock. The hills stayed exactly where they were. Beside him, Compo was occupied with a more
"Maybe he's just watching the clock, too," Clegg suggested, sitting down on a patch of heather. "Waiting for the right moment to realize that the moment is already here."
Compo sat down next to him and offered the sticky toffee. "Want a bit, Foggy? It’ll take you until tea time just to chew it. Best way to kill a schedule I know."