Just about everybody was at the Mountain Glide. It was only Jenno who didn't stop what she doing to stare at us. Roy recovered first. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Is this your neutral line judge?’ ‘He's Burstead St Desmond, and Swivelswick,’ I said. That silenced Roy for a moment. ‘It's all right—you don't have to call him that.’ ‘What are we going to call him then?’ ‘You can call me Bish, if you like.’  ‘Bish just wants to see the races,’ I said. ‘Will he be a line judge?’ There isn't anybody else except Pearl, and she's not really neutral. She's in the GGG.’ ‘What's this about a line judge?’ asked Bish. ‘We need a third person, preferably neutral, to be judge at the finish line.’ ‘No slight to Pearl's spirit of neutrality, but I'd be honoured to serve as a line judge. Which one of you is Pearl, by the way?’ Pearl put up a hand. ‘Ah yes, I saw you in the choir this morning, did I not? Would you have any objection to me being line judge in your place?’ Pearl shook her head. ‘No, Your Grace.’ The bishop held up a hand. ‘No titles please. If you could kindly treat me as just one of yourselves, I would be extremely happy. Now, if somebody could tell me exactly what I should do and where to do it, I am fully ready to be at your service.’ I arrived at the clay pit before Jenno, so I decided to practice. I set off at a run and leaped aboard Lightning. I was just entering the first curve in the track when Jenno appeared towing her Emmeline P. I swung Lightning left into a broadside, shifting my weight rapidly to the left from the outside of the turn. With the steering bar, I kept Lightning balanced in her slide to come to a halt in a cloud of dust just a couple of feet from Jenno. For an instant she looked as though she would jump away, but she didn't. She merely stopped and broke into a laugh. ‘If'n yew fink yew c'n scare me loike that, yew c'n jus' fink agen.’ ‘Sorry Jenno. I didn't see you coming.’ Jenno continued to laugh. ‘'Corse yew did. Yew done it a-purpose.’ I got off Lightning and stood up. ‘Jenno, believe me— I didn't know you were there.’ She stopped laughing. Her freckles drooped down her face. ‘Cripes— yew're serious! It were pretty good any'ow. Would yew teach me 'ow ter stop loike that?’ Bish at the Mountain Glide Jenno at the Clay Pit To see Jenno’s blog, click here