Arthur Pound stood at the gates of the great exhibition, being pushed and buffeted by the hundreds of smartly dressed ladies and gentlemen, hustling to be the first to see the latest technologies of the 20th century. “Good God” he muttered to himself, “so, this is what it was like before television”.
His hayrick ride had got him all but a short walk from the exhibition with him using the Eiffel Tower as well as the majestic exhibition building as a prominent landmark to aim towards.
He passed through the gates and looked around in awe. It was nothing more impressive than his modern day expectations but being thrown back to 1900 gave him an additional sense of admiration of this scale of the project. Almost like a giant conservatory, the building held a massive exhibition, tents and stalls scattered the entrance area with giant machines visible in the not too distant horizon and people showing off their inventions. And even though he had no plans for thieving or stealing, his cat-burglar background made him instinctively look for the ways that he would have broken into and escape routes to get out of the building should the need arise.
Moving with the tide of excited people, Arthur was swept along with the throng of traffic. “Billets!” came an agitated voice directed at Arthur, “Tickets!” the attendant screamed in English again, this time so loud it gave him a start.
“My wife has them, see her” he casually remarked as he pointed and waved randomly at the first person who appeared suitable. Immediately the ticket collector pounced upon the rotund woman walking a metre behind him and demanded two tickets by which time Arthur had disappeared into the crowd.
Bumping and buffeting through the crowd Arthur walked into the back of a very large person wearing a leather hat with flaps which could be used as ear warmers, a leather jacket and canvas trousers and, as Arthur looked down, the person was wearing high dockers boots to match.
“I’m sorry sir” he exclaimed clumsily.
“SIR!” screeched a high pitched voice as the large body he had just bumped into spun round revealing that he had in fact just insulted a woman.
“Madam!” she replied.
The woman had very round features, dark tanned skin and brown eyes, even her bushy eyebrows looked masculine, and she stood about two inches taller than Arthur. She wore a leather flying hat which balanced flying goggles upon it and the ear muffs dangling at the sides.
The jacket that she was wearing was not done up but instead she was wrapping it around her body so that it clung tighter to her already ample frame, almost as if she were in the Artic and trying to keep warm, or the act of wrapping a towel around her to conceal her modesty. Her size meant she was certainly not the type for tight fitting clothing and the jacket seemed to be wrestling with her.
Her canvas trousers were tucked into her beige boots and, if Arthur were to make an immediate assumption, she looked as if she had just jumped out of the cockpit of a biplane.
“Oh, madam, I am sorry”.
She looked reproachfully at him.
As she waved her finger at him she exclaimed “You’re just lucky Pepper didn’t hear you call her mummy Sir!” with the final word, her finger stopped waving and pointed at his face as her eyes opened wider and stared at him.
“Pepper?” Arthur looked about for the lady’s child.
“Yes, Pepper” she nuzzled her nose down the front of her jacket and whispered.
“Don’t worry baby. Mummy is telling the nasty man off. Yes she is. Yes she is”.
Arthur leaned in to see the baby that the woman was obviously concealing down her front.
“Sir!” she said with a startled look “Do you often find yourself peering down a ladies front without permission? I don’t believe it is customary to do that in any culture without permission!”
But before Arthur had a chance to reply or withdraw his curious eyes, a snout and sharp fangs of either a very ugly hairy baby or possibly and more likely a very vicious Chihuahua snapped out through the collar very nearly biting his nose.
Arthur lunged back grabbing his satchel and lifted it to shield the dog from his face…

For further information read the Cronache del Moscardino