Wednesday, January the 1st, 2003
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Q — Where is Hooting Yard?
A — Not far from Bodger's Spinney. Walk along Amnesiac Lane, taking a left turn just past the post office. Follow the hedge until you come to the gates of Haemoglobin Towers, then head for the kiosk. Hooting Yard is on your right, by the duckpond.
Q — What happens in Hooting Yard?
A — Oh, all sorts of things.
Q — Can you be more specific?
A — The best way to discover the enormous majesty of Hooting Yard is to read the stories and to look at the pictures. Once smitten, you may wish to take part in some of the Intriguing Projects
Who is this Frank Key person who seems to know so much about Hooting Yard?
A — Would you like a potted biography?
Q — I certainly would.
A — He was born in a lighthouse. When still tiny, he was attacked by a flock of demented bitterns. He had a troubled relationship with his sister, who stank of camphor. On reaching adulthood, Frank decamped to Concrete, Texas, where he spent some years as an undertaker's mute. He then moved to Splat in Cornwall, which can be found on most Ordnance Survey maps if you look carefully. Following an injection carried out by his doctor—who was also one of the towering figures of post-war Bolivian water polo — Frank became colour blind. He now lives on the upper floors of an abandoned hotel, where he is often visited by his sister, still reeking of camphor, who entertains him with piccolo recitals and the chewing of brazil nuts. Frank lists his hobbies as ponds, tin and badgers, but not necessarily in that order.
Q — That's absolutely fascinating. Is it true?
A — Is there a chaffinch on the roof of the hotel?
Q — I’ll go and have a look …
A — Ah, but not before returning to the Hooting Yard Home Page