Greg had spent so many New Year's Eves at his local pub, the same pub where he spent most of his Friday and Saturday nights, the prospect of spending another filled him with dread.

It was looking almost certain that New Year's Eve was going to consist of drunken chit-chat with the same old faces. Then later staggering home drunk, only to wake up the next morning in the same bed, in the same dark flat, just like last year and the year before! “I just can't take it any more,” he said to Kate his fiancée, “yet another New Year's doing the same crap!” She agreed, it would be nice to do something different for a change, and was quick to suggest getting away. “How about a few days in a cottage in the Lake District?” She suggested. “I know someone who has such a cottage, and I'm sure we'd be able to stay a couple of days.”

Greg was impressed by her suggestion, and as much as he loved living in London, the idea of going somewhere remote and full of wide open space appealed greatly. It had been snowing too this year, so it'd be all the more picturesque. Kate jumped on the phone and gave her friend a call to see if they could stay at the cottage for a few days. She was in luck. Her friend who owned the cottage was visiting relatives in Norfolk this year, so it was ideal.

Kate arranged to travel up in the afternoon on New Year's Eve, then stay a few days before returning back home. Once it was all confirmed Greg went off to get supplies for the evening's festivities. This also involved a call to his friend Chris who supplied him with a curious package in exchange for a crisp twenty pound note. Other items he decided to take were several bottles of ale, various tins, bread and some pot noodles, and his beloved Penny Farthing he'd bought the previous week.

“Why are you bringing that old thing Greg,” Kate asked, “I doubt we're going to get it in the car.” But Greg insisted that it had to come. “Look Kate, how many people get to ride about on a Penny Farthing in the Lake District on New Years Eve? I bet nobody's done that for years, and so that's what I'm going to do. After all we're supposed to be doing something different this year, remember?”

She gave in to his insistence, as usual, and spent a fair while trying to accommodate the rather odd looking bicycle in the boot of the car. “This bloody thing's too big,” Kate exclaimed. Greg suggested turning it up the other way but it was no good, the front wheel had to be removed. Greg whipped out an adjustable spanner and moments later it was packed snugly in the back of the car, ready for the off.

It was the morning of New Year's Eve and Greg and Kate were getting ready to travel up to the Lakes. They locked the door of their flat and got in the car. Just as Kate was reversing out of her parking space there was a loud thud, startled she slammed on the brakes. Greg's friend Chris had slammed his hand down on the roof of the car, a window wound down and Chris asked if he could join them on their trip. He wanted to get out of London too, and rather than ask if he could come along the evening before. Which would've given Greg and Kate time to think it through, he thought he'd spring it on them just as they were leaving. This way there was less chance of them saying no, which was most certainly what they would've said, had he asked the previous evening. After Chris pleaded for several moments, Greg and Kate reluctantly agreed he could come along. He squeezed into the back of the car, ducking beneath a protruding cycle wheel, and positioned himself on the seat in a tiny space among numerous carrier bags loaded full of alcoholic beverages.

The drive up to the Lake District was tedious. The traffic was heavy as it seemed everyone else in the country had the same idea about getting away. By the time they arrived at the cottage they were all too tired to care about the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, they were keener on getting inside and having a cup of tea. “The scenery will still be here in an hour from now said Greg,” so they went inside and got warm. The cottage was the last on a row of six, the gardens of each divided by a thick laurel hedge which made it quite private. The garden of their cottage was full of plants and shrubs, though barely visible from all the snow that had covered them.

Inside the cottage was just as they'd expected; with wooden floors and thick rugs, rendered walls and beautiful exposed beams. Most importantly there was a large open fire which occupied an entire wall of the lounge. A note had been pinned to the mantle piece indicating where the firewood and coal was kept, and asking that they take care not to burn the place down and a few basic instructions to prevent such an occurrence.

Chris was first to read the note and disappeared out the back door via the kitchen, returning moments later with a basket of logs and kindling for the fire. Whilst he loaded the fire grate Greg was in the kitchen staring at the kettle whilst it boiled. “It's not going to boil any faster if you stare at it you know said Kate,” “well you know how much I love a good cuppa!” Greg replied. Kate and Greg returned to the lounge where Chris had little success in getting the fire going. “Firelighters, I need firelights” he exclaimed, and disappeared back out to the kitchen to find some.

Later after the delights of tea and fire had subsided, it was time to crack open the bottles of ale that had been brought in from the car, along with the strange brown package and Penny Farthing. “Greg why have you brought that bloody thing with you,” asked Chris. Kate laughed, and Greg went on to explain his reasoning, which Chris agreed made perfect sense.

“We'll have to take it out in a while after we've had a few drinks, and maybe some other special stuff.” “What special stuff?” Asked Kate. Greg and Chris looked at one another for a brief moment and smiled. “What special stuff?” Repeated Kate. “Well” said Greg, “you know how we wanted to do something different this year; well I thought we'd get some magic mushroom!” “Oh no not shrooms,” replied Kate, “do you remember what happened last time?” “Yeah, but that was different we're out in the country, nothing bad can happen out here!” “Well alright, but don't overdo it like last time!”

A few moments later, Greg and Chris had torn open the package and had swallowed several of the caps inside. “Kate do you want some of these?” Asked Greg; “no thanks, I'm more than happy with my glass of wine for now.” Greg put the package down on the coffee table and slouched back in the sofa alongside Kate. Chris did the same, alone on the adjacent sofa. It fell fairly silent for while, then after about fifteen minutes Greg said to Chris, “do you feel anything yet?” “No”, Chris replied. “Where did you get these things from, they're fucking rubbish?” “From the same place I got the last ones.” “Well seeing as they're obviously duds I'm going to take the Farthing out for a little cycle around; after all it'll be the New Year soon!”

Greg put on his jacket, picked up the bicycle and went outside. Kate and Chris followed. “You know it's pretty crazy just cycling around on a Penny Farthing in ordinary circumstances, but doing it in this weather is totally nuts,” said Chris. “Yeah, yeah, I know” replied Greg.

The road leading away from the cottages headed on a steady decline, at the bottom of which was a lake spanning several hundred feet in diameter that had frozen over. The road then curved around and started on an incline back up the hill where it ran on for about a mile before joining the main road. The snow had been trodden down by vehicle tyres and made riding the Penny Farthing virtually impossible. Greg was about to give up until he saw that the surface of the lake was perfectly flat with untouched snow. Both Kate and Chris reminded him that he was out of his mind, and then he proceeded down the road to the lake.

Part Two

Frank has worked here for nearly forty years and oversees the machinery. He’s a proud man, though getting on a bit. I reckon he should have retired years ago looking at him! Forty years working in the same damn building, I’m only here temporarily whilst I look for a proper job, the second something else comes along I’m out of here. How is it that a man can get so excited about working in a biscuit factory I wonder? Frank interrupts “The Cumbrian Bourbon factory never sleeps, the machinery operates continually year after year. The only time production is brought to a halt is when the machinery requires servicing. The Bourbon biscuit has been in production since nineteen-ten and there’s no reason why it should stop now, there is strong demand worldwide and packets are packed into crates everyday and shipped to virtually every continent” Gee, does this guy ever shut up about the wonders of this bland and archaic factory? Yeah, whatever Frank! “Are you paying attention to what I’ve been telling you boyo?” He shouts. “Yes, absolutely Frank, you were telling me about the factory’s history and how important the Bourbon biscuit is.” “Yes, indeed, that’s right lad! It’s very important, been around since nineteen-ten it has!” “Yeah, you just said that!” “Well I’m telling you again, so that you remember. If you’re going to take charge of the machinery this New Years Eve, then you’d better be paying attention to what I say.”

“Now, it’s all very simple, there’re these computer things that take care of everything except the Bourbon cream pump, which you’ll have to check manually.” “Bourbon cream pump?” “Yes, the pump that puts the filling in the middle of the biscuit, you know.” “Oh, right, so what do I have to check?” “You need to check these two pressure gauges, as long as they read less than one and a half everything is Ok.” “One and a half, right, got it.” “It’s very important that you check these regularly, this machine can become dangerously volatile if the pressure gets too high.” “Ok, ok I got it; I’ll check the pressure gauges regularly.” “Good, now on to the baking oven…”

Frank carries on yakking about the machinery for another twenty minutes; I don’t even know what the point is in being here! Like he said, the computer controls all the machinery, and even if the stupid gauge things go too high what am I supposed to do about it? I reckon he resents that computer, he just looks at these gauges to make himself feel important, to make it appear that he has some purpose working here. And work, what a joke, he doesn’t do any work here! Silly old git! Listening to him is making me thirsty, time for a coffee break I think!

Part Three

“Greg are you sure that ice is thick enough?” “Kate, it’s minus nine!” “This lake is frozen solid; I bet the fish are frozen solid too!” “Well just be careful.” Greg walked out a fair distance onto the ice and hopped onto the Penny Farthing, and started cycling towards to the centre. “Man you’re fucking crazy!” shouts Chris, as he takes a photo with his camera phone. Greg waves back at him in reply and continues cycling further out, the bicycle wheels fighting against the snow at every turn of the peddles, his moustache blowing wildly in the passing breeze.

Suddenly a loud noise cracked and echoed like a volcanic eruption, Greg brought the bicycle to an abrupt halt. “Huh, what was that?” He said to himself as he turned around to face his friends on the edge of the lake, then another noise, similar but much louder than the one preceding it. Then the ground shook a little. “Did you feel that”, he shouted in the direction of Kate and Chris. But before he had a chance to acknowledge their reply, terrifying cracking noises started to emerge from the ice under the snow. He jumped back on his trusty Penny Farthing, and started to cycle as fast as he could back towards the lake’s edge.

He’d only travelled a few feet when he noticed, having looked over his left shoulder, that a giant crack in the ice was opening up behind him. Kate was screaming at him to cycle faster back in her direction, but he could only cycle so fast, as there was little traction between the tyre and the ice. Then came a sound that filled the air, it sounded like the start of sleet or hailstones, but before Greg had a chance to work out what it sounded like he was being hammered all over by a shower of Bourbon biscuits falling from the sky. “What the fuck is going on” he cried, and tried to cycle desperately back the way he came. The Bourbons were falling in the snow and jamming between the wheels of the bicycle and the sheet of ice upon which he was trying to ride. All the while a gigantic crack was growing ever closer, and threatening to swallow both he and his beloved Penny Farthing.

It was hopeless, the crack was opening up too fast. No matter what he did there was no way he could move fast enough against the snow, and pounding Bourbon biscuits that were embedding themselves in his path. Then suddenly the back wheel jammed, and the bicycle came to a sudden stop. The crack had finally caught up and Greg was falling backwards on the bike into the freezing water that lay beneath the ice.

From the water's edge, Kate rushed out onto the ice in an attempt to rescue him, but more cracks were emerging. Chris grabbed her and she wrestled with him to let her go, but he held her tight and told her that it’s too dangerous. She could end up in the water too, and she knew he was right. He pulled his phone from his pocket and immediately dialled for the emergency services, and explained what had happened.

In what seemed like moments a rescue helicopter was on the scene and was hoisting a dangerously cold and unconscious Greg from the lake, and then disappeared off over the tree line of the hill. The Penny Farthing didn’t make it, and was left to sink to a rusty death on the bottom of the lake. A frantic Kate and Chris ran back up the icy road to the car, a journey hampered by the many Bourbon biscuits that had fallen on the road. They finally got in the car and started the engine, then headed to the pub to ask for directions to the hospital.

Part Four

Beep. Beep. Beep. What’s that noise, it’s not a microwave, they don’t sound like that. Beep. Beep. I’ve heard it before somewhere. Damn, it’s irritatingly persistent. What could it be? “Greg”, said an unfamiliar voice. “Greg, can you hear me the voice enquired.” “Who's that?” Greg opened his eyes to see, but the light was so bright he couldn’t make anything out at first. Except for a dark column which stood apart from all the brightness, the column was talking. “What do you want from me?” cried Greg, “What do you want?” “Ah, he’s awake,” said the voice. “Now Greg, you were in an accident but you’re ok.” “Accident?” “You’re in the hospital but you’re going to be just fine, so don’t worry about anything.”

As his vision returned he could see the figure in front of him, a tall dark lady with long dark hair was standing by his bedside. “How are you doing Greg?” Asked the lady. “Yeah, I’ve felt better,” he replied. “I’m Dr Patel; I’ve been treating you after your accident. You’ve been unconscious for two days now.” “Really?” “Yes, really! We’re amazed that you survived after spending so much time under the freezing water. But there is one thing I need to tell you about, your spleen was badly damaged, but we’ve fixed it! We were able to replace it with a sardine we found in the lake.” “You’ve got to be fucking joking?” Shouted Greg. “No really, it really works! It’s a new surgical technique. Before if someone had a damaged spleen we used to just take it out, but it was discovered by Dr Balheim in the US, that you can actually replace a damaged spleen with a sardine! It has to be a fresh sardine though; we can’t just nip down to Tesco and buy the tinned ones. That’d be far too dangerous! But you’re going to be just………”

“Greg, Greg! I don’t think he’s breathing!” “Greg wake up! He’s not breathing!” “No, wait, I just saw his chest move.” “Arghh, what happened?” “Oh, thank god for that! He’s alive! Kate, I don't think we'll be needing that ambulance, I think he’s going to be ok.” “Where am I?” “You’re in a cottage in the Lake District, remember?” “It’s New Years Eve? You just took a whole bunch of drugs, and passed out. Remember?”