The Grail is Found!

My dear readers, my failure to update this electronic diary for the last two weeks must surely have convinced you that I am a prodigious idler, lazier and more carefree even than Nigel Havers when wearing a billowy cotton shirt, reclining on a private beach, sipping endlessly from a pitcher of gin and tonics, constantly refilled throughout the long summer afternoons by a small arab boy.

This picture you are entertaining of me indulging in shameful indolence is grossly unfair and it surprises me that you have stooped to such accusatory imagery. My dear readers, I have been anxious to update you on my many exciting adventures, but my computer was stolen by what I think was a Nazi. I have thus been denied access to the interweb and its many flash cartoons about George W. Bush and what the fans think of the latest episodes of Doctor Who (largely positive I have since observed). I have also been unable to update this diary, for which I apologise, though quietly and only out of the corner of my mouth because it was not really my fault, and most likely the fault of a Nazi.

To quickly fill you in on my grail-quest...I sought Zeppelins on the top of the Law Hill in Dundee, spending many fruitless days there. I became so familiar with the famous War Memorial and the penguin statue at the top of that hill that I began to see them as friends. Yet they refused to be friendly and help in my search for Zeppelins. In the end, I found only a buck-toothed child with a helium balloon that said "Get Well Soon", which I purloined (the balloon, not the buck-toothed child), reasoning that a helium balloon was the closest approximation to a Zeppelin that I was likely to find in Dundee. When I got the balloon home, I punctured it, but there was nothing inside. I was about to commit the balloon to the flames in my impatience, but I noticed that the "Get Well Soon" slogan, readable easily when the balloon was full and plump, now read "Get Elson" due to shrinkage and the folding of the latex.

At once I picked up the phonebook and looked up "Elson". I came across a single entry for one "J. Elson", who I quickly telephoned. The conversation proceeded as follows:

-"Hallo? Is that J. Elson?"
-"No, I am Horton Carew. I just phoned you looking for J. Elson. Are you J. Elson?"
-"Yes, I am J. Elson. Who is this?"
-"I am Horton Carew."
-"Is that Clive? Have you been drinking again?"
-"My dear man, I do not know what you mean. I was led to your number via a series of clues. What can you tell me?"
-"What do you want me to say? Is this the police?"
-"I need information regarding the [here I whispered] ...Grail..."
-"That's a small village in the East Neuk of Fife isn't it?"
-"Thank you. I will say no more."

I hung up. I then caught a bus to the East Neuk of Fife, where I discovered a small village called Crail....

...Dear readers, I could go on to relate every last detail of my adventures, but to be blunt, they are tedious and rambling, and I cannot remember much of them. I will "cut to the chase" as the Liverpudlians might say if they were imitating an American, and reveal the end result of my quest.

The last few weeks have seen me uncover countless clues and leads from unlikely sources, astral-project to Marrakesh, receive a visit from the ghosts of Isambard Kingdom Brunel and Frank L. Baum, sculpt a makeshift idol from pulped fig rolls, and read extracts from The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie to placate a troupe of unruly savages, all in an effort to uncover the Holy Grail.

Yesterday morning I discovered it. It turns out that the Holy Grail is to be found in the smiles of every child in the world, and in the hopes of everyone who ever dared to dream. Needless to say, I was disappointed. I was hoping for at least a magic cup.

I will fill you in on the case of my stolen computer tomorrow.