I'd like to thank everybody who has written to me about this story, and yes that does include those who griped about it as well. It's always pleasant to read comments, even the criticisms. And the complaints about miss-spellings.
But hey, I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm dyslexic, and I have been all my life; so if a spellchecker don't pick them up then there's sweet FA I can do about.
And please don't say proofreaders, I do have some and they work very hard, but they are unpaid so I can't fire them and they also have to deal with my love of own version of colloquial English. I'm just too old and ornery to conform.
Now I know some people are going to feel cheated that there isn't an Epilogue for this story. But actually there is, however it is incomplete at this time. Will I ever get back to it? I really do not know, because I've fallen into another -- what I thought was going to be short yarn -- that has been growing exponentially almost from moment I typed the first word. It has now developed into a series of five interconnected yarns following the life of yet another ne'er-do-well who has a propensity for a good pint of Best and enjoys a tot or two of the demon rum. This new exploit appears to have taken over my life at present. Hopefully it won't lie around on my harddrives as long as parts of Nothing I Can Do About Now did.
DC