The Angels Story

Hello, I am an Angel. Not one of those that float around on clouds playing harps all day, no way! I am made of brass and only as long as a little finger on a human hand. My first memories are of arriving in a little cardboard box, wrapped in tissue paper and being unwrapped at the house of Claus Taeger in a town called Elmhorn, in Germany. There are a group of people in this town that form part of a tribe called "Christian". This branch of the tribe have a custom of lending members of my tribe to people who are about to begin, or are on, a journey of some kind.
Claus took me along with him on the back of his motorbike, when he set off to visit his daughter in Bordeaux, France. I was so excited, never before had I travelled so far and so fast. Claus was a very careful rider and I felt quite safe, but there was a nasty moment when a horrible wailing sound filled the air all around me and the motorbike came to a stop. A man in a uniform, talking a strange language was rousing on Clause and writing things into a book. I think it may have been something about the way he'd been riding his motorbike, so I was not able to help him this time.
At a place called La Rochelle (isn't that a lovely name), I was feeling nice and cosy in Claus"s tent, in the distance I heard Claus talking to two of the other campers, they talked for a long time into the night, and even shared a glass of wine together. It was very late then, when I was disturbed from my resting place and taken to the tent belonging to some people from New Zealand. Claus told them he wanted me to go with them on their bicycle journey and look after them, at the end of their journey, they should pass me on to others who are setting out on some sort of journey.
Later the next day, there I was, perched in a bag on the handlebars of Don's bike. I have worked out their names, the other is Val and they camp in the woods and pack up each morning, riding on and on and on. I feel very comfortable with them, they seem to make friends with people along the way, even though they do not always speak the same language, though Val is getting passably good at this French speak. In fact when Don and Val try to talk to each other as they ride along, it seem that they do not understand each other all the time either, but I am not one to tell those sorts of stories. For a couple of people their age, living on the ground and peddling a bike all day, they really do get on pretty well.

Every day or so they get me out of the handlebar bag and give me a loving rub with warm fingers, I really like that. One day Val put me into her handlebar bag for a change, I enjoyed that a lot, because she is a very careful rider, taking her time crossing busy roads and not taking the sort of risks that Don takes at times, really puts me on the tip of my wings at times getting ready to protect him, not that I can help too much in that sort of situation (remember what happened to Claus).

I'd been in Vals bag for several days, when, on a hot day in a small rural town in France, my two companions had lunch on the town green, then lay down for a short rest, Val going to sleep, with me in her bag just alongside her head. Don read a book for several pages before he too dozed off. I can't be too sure of exactly what happened next, but suddenly there was violent movement, a slamming car door, revving motor, followed by a fast take off. The voice that spoke was in French I think, followed by the sound of zips opening, the light momentarily blinded me and the camera that had been my best friend, was taken from my side. I was struggling to maintain composure, but knew I had to work really hard to ensure that I was safely returned to the ones I had been trusted to look after. I had no time to feel bad about letting this happen. I had a lot of work to do. More zips zipping, a cry of excitement from the person holding the bag, more rocking and tumbling for me and my other travelling companions, Val's favourite pocket knife was having a really rough time but managed to stay in place. My neighbours in the next pocket were gone though, the really nice Euro family, all 300 of them, gone in a flash. I was working really hard, concentrating on the best possible outcome. We had left the town and were speeding out the main road to the next town. My action sensors had finally established the wave length of the person holding me and really without thinking of the consequences for myself and my fellow baggies I got a "throw the bag out the window" message through, and next thing we were tumbling through the air at goodness knows what speed. Thump, roll, tumble, stop. Dead quiet. The Credit Cards in the side pocket were ok, so was the passport, oh sure we were battered and bruised, but out of the car. Still more to do.

Getting into long range mode, I began transmitting, could I possibly get Don and Val to come out on this road, even if they did, would either of them see us down here in the roadside ditch. So many questions, so much still to do. Twenty minutes later, it seemed an eternity (now thats something I know about!) I could hear the humming wheels of Domingo (thats Dons bike) approaching, oh joy, he''s sharp eyed, he'll see me. How wrong I was, he went past without a glance. Come on, I urged myself, get beaming, turn up the angel juice, you have to catch Val.

I thought she'd gone past, but then I heard the familiar screech of Gingers brakes, followed by Val caling on Don to stop. Soon I was back in Vals hands, assured and releived as she looked through and found each of her treasured items, notebook, pocket knife, bank cards, me of course, I had done my best and they were so relieved, I had failed to stop the thief, but had somewhat saved the day. Hey, but that's what Angels do don't they?.