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Jiggles was bored. "Is there absolutely nothing on?" she asked Ginge, who was lazing in the other deckchair outside the large building that was their hangar, offices and mess combined.
The chief, and only, mechanic of Jiggleswick Air shook his head slowly. "There's another dance in the village this weekend." he offered, shielding his eyes with an oily hand and staring down the grass runway. Beyond, and to the left of, the closely mown strip a low rise hid Fenwick on the Marsh. Just the square spire of the church, with its crenellations and whimsical battlements, poked over the little hill. The flag atop its pole waved desultorily in the nearly absent wind.
Jiggles- Veronica Anne Jiggleswick, Ronny to relatives out to cousins and Jiggles to the chaps she ran Jiggleswick Air with- pondered the delights of a dance at the village hall, a flimsy wooden building which might as well not be there on a cold or windy night. It held little allure. She, Ginge and Ally- the third partner in the business- had already worked their way through the boys, and some of the girls, of the area. She sighed and shook her head, "That's three days away. I want something to do now."