He decided (he did a lot of deciding, though it never seemed to do him any good) that he should ask someone where the pub was, to save him continually looking around for it. So he chose the nearest person.

Unfortunately, since he had strayed by then into the gypsy camp in the dis-used part of the mine, they hadn't got a clue, but Ian didn't mind, cos he had a good old chat with them. This filled him with energy, and a puzzled expression cos he couldn't work out why gypsies would want to live in a dis-used mine, but he was undwettered as always, and ventured on, towards what he hoped would be the pub.

Soon, though, he was very lucky, because he saw a sign at the side of the street that said The Hut. And just next to that, he saw WH Smith, and he was very happy, cos he knew WH Smith would have maps, and they might just be able to tell him where that pub was.

So he went in, and had a good rumage through the maps, and then a good rumage through the furry animals they were trying to sell. These deistracted him somewhat, since he thought they were rather sweet, and had to buy a couple. He then remembered he had come in for a map, so had to go and buy one of them as well.

He spent a good half-hour looking at this map, and being particularly clever, he finally worked out that the pub was right behind him, because its map reference was exactly 100675.362 In fact he was wrong, this was the e-mail of the map company if you had complaints, but he didn't realise his mistake, because it did happen to be right behind him, which was fortunate.

So, invigorated by his own intellegence, and yet more invigorated by having spent the last half hour stroking those cuddly animals, he ventured into the pub.

And suddenly it went quiet.

Very quiet.