noticed a locker in the corner. I tried the door and it opened first time. All I could see was one solitary item occupying one of the shelves. I grabbed it to get a better look and on closer examination it reminded me of a smaller version of a Lonsdale belt that was awarded to boxing champions. I closed the locker door and made my way over to the sofa which had softened my landing when I fell through the ceiling. I then sat down to further investigate my new find in the hope I had found something of value. I didn’t know what to make of it, but no way was it a Lonsdale belt. There were strange patterns on the buckle, with a small white lens in the middle of it.
I was just about to get up and make my way back to the lake when a voice said hello, startling me. It seemed to be originating from the buckle part of the belt. I immediately dropped the belt on the floor, though I was sure I must have imagined it. But then the same voice said hello again. After hesitating for a moment I picked up the belt, reaching the conclusion that it must be some sort of interactive device. One of the locals had told me an inventor had lived there in the past so that was my logical conclusion to the situation I found myself in.
When the voice said hello for the third time, I decided to reply.
“Hello,” I said, “what sort of interactive device are you?”
“I am the Guardianship. What is your name?”
“My name is John.”
“From this moment on you are now Guardian John of the Guardianship.”
I thought I would humour it. “What, does that entitle me to free entry to Blackpool pleasure beach?”
“No, but I can Transport you to any part of the Galaxy. Just tell me where you would like to go and I will Transport you there. Just stand up and put the belt on.”
I immediately stood up, fastening the belt around my waist. I had never come across anything like the fastening mechanism before, it just sort of moulded together as I clipped it on.
“I’m ready,” I said. “Transport me to the nicest place I have ever been to… St Peter’s beach on the island of Barbados in the West Indies.”
And so it turned out. A strong white light began to emanate from the lens on the belt buckle to a distance of about six to eight feet in front of me. The light then formed into a rotating white disc which increased in size until it was large enough for a man to step through.
At that stage the voice said, “Step through now, John.”
With some trepidation I walked forward a few paces until I reached the disc. The light was so bright it was almost blinding. I hesitated momentarily and then I gingerly stepped into the light, expecting to walk straight through it, with my feet still touching the cellar floor. But to my utter astonishment, after clearing the blinding light I stepped out onto a white, sandy beach which I instantly recognised as St Peter’s.
It was a beautiful, cloudless, sunny day, with the shoreline in front of me, palm trees behind me, and lots of tiny crabs making a run for it as if their life depended on it. They shot down their little burrows in quick succession, one by one, seemingly never to be seen again until the all-clear had been sounded. As all this was transpiring, the white disc behind me vanished almost instantaneously as I continued to marvel at the sight that confronted me. It must have been early morning; the sun was low and I had the beach completely to myself apart from the odd seagull weaving its way around the endless expanse of clear blue sky, always on the lookout for an easy feeding opportunity. It was all such a lot for me to take in. Was I dreaming? Had I passed out when I crashed through the cellar floor? Would I wake up soon, returning back to reality? Who knew what was about to happen? I certainly didn’t. Well, there was no contest, it would be back to where I had come from. I immediately instructed the Guardianship to Transport me back to the cellar in Church Fenton, which it did, in the same way that I had come and in double quick time.
On arriving back in the cellar and after a little bit of a struggle, not being used to the mechanism, I removed the belt and tossed it on the floor. I then proceeded to lie on the sofa in the hope that I would wake up from my extended dream. Alas, it was not to be. This was reality; this was the situation I now found myself in. Now I always thought I was a logical, analytical person. I knew this sort of technology could not have been constructed on Earth, so I wanted answers and fast. I grabbed the belt, placing it next to me, and then I started my interrogation.
“Alright,” I said in a very harsh, uncompromising tone, “who created you and how did you get here? Spill, or I will banish you to the crusher in the scrap yard from which there will be no return.”
In a calm, collected voice, completely opposite to my sharp tones, he replied, “I was created by a people called the Kultarn who ruled the galaxy many thousands of years ago. They left me here. I know not why; all I can say for sure is that the Kultarn laid the foundation for every civilization in the Galaxy today, all created in their image.”
It was quite a lot for a simple old soul like me to grasp all in one go. While I was in the process of taking all this information in, I noticed my watch on the floor at the point where I had stepped through the portal. I proceeded to pick it up and reunite it with my wrist.
After sitting down again, I asked the Guardianship, “Why did the watch not make the journey with me through the portal?”
He replied that no metallic or mechanical objects could be Transported. I would be the only living creature allowed through the portal.
“You can only Transport things like fabric, such as clothing. Everything else will be left behind at the entrance to the portal.”
So that was that. I had been told.
“Now then,” I said, “seeing that in my infinite wisdom I have decided to keep you, can I call you something other than the Guardianship?”
“Of course you can, John. You can call me any name you desire.”
“I will keep it short then,” I replied. “From now on, you will be known as Kev, after one of my old friends from comprehensive school. He was very brainy, always top of the class, especially at maths, so I thought the name would suit you.”
“As you wish, John.”
“Right, back to sleep for you,” I said, flinging Kev over my shoulder and then making my way up the cellar steps, out of the house and back to the lake to collect my fishing tackle.
Would you believe it? While I had been away, the crafty fish had stolen the bait off my hook! I could just imagine them chuckling to themselves, as in disgust I packed up all my fishing tackle and put it in the boot of my car. Then I drove off… within the speed limit of course, even though I was so excited at my new find and wanted to get home as quickly as possible, all the time contemplating how I could exploit my new companion to good, but more importantly, profitable, use.
On arriving home I tried to keep to my normal routine. If nothing else, I am a creature of habit; if a hitman were after me he would find it very easy to accomplish his task, helped by the way I repetitively keep to the same set routines. I like nice, predictable historical and geographical patterns. After all, those were my two best subjects at school. Not easy subjects to make a living out of though, unless you want to teach those subjects, which certainly didn’t appeal to me. That was how I met Bob in the bookies in 2009; I thought I had stumbled on an historical pattern in soccer’s champions’ league competition that I could possibly exploit for profitable use. Like most discoveries, it came about purely by accident.
The year before, when Manchester United and Chelsea contested the final, a friend called Allan asked me who he should back to win the final. I told him to back Manchester United. I seemed to notice over the years that it tended to be the usual suspects that won and Chelsea had not won the competition before. Anyway, Manchester United won, as predicted, though it went all the way to extra time and penalties. Still, a win is a win and a few pounds found its way into Allan’s pocket as well, courtesy of the bookies. It was only when I got home that evening that I started to do some more in-depth research on the subject.
As it stands at the moment, for 19 out of the last 21 years the winner has turned out to be a team that has won the competition before. Not a bad starting point. Only about 12 of the 36 teams that start the competition have won it before. That was far too many, so I had to look for ways of narrowing it down even further. The first thing I spotted was, never go for the team that won it the year before. It has been 25 years now since a team achieved that – AC Milan, who won the competition in 1989 and 1990. Next, never go for a team from the same country that won it the year before, because it has been over 30 years since two different teams from the same country won it in consecutive years. That was Liverpool in 1981, then Aston villa in 1982. I cannot see the likes of Celtic, Ajax or Porto winning now, and they are too small in financial resources, lacking the critical mass to compete with the big boys. It seems to be rotating between the big clubs from four countries: Spain, Italy, Germany, and England. Get the sequence right and you are in the money. After modest success in 2009 when Barcelona won, because they were a short price, the formula really came into its own the following year, 2010. It came down to four teams, Inter Milan and AC Milan of Italy and Bayern Munich and Borussia Dortmund of Germany, all of them outsiders. Would you believe that Inter Milan at 14/1