-- Do you have any spares ? Peter asked , as the float drew to a stop before him.

-- I can let you have a pint of gold top , came the reply in a thick Yorkshire accent .

-- How much ?

-- Forty p.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. That just about took out all his spare change , but he knew that he would have had to either use his credit card or cash a traveller's cheque very soon anyway.

Handing over the coins , he pulled the top and took a swig and grinned at the milkman as he raised the bottle in a toast.

-- Better than water , but not as good as beer , he said . What's the beer like in this neck of the woods ?

-- We've got a good local brew . Real ale , not that mass produced rubbish that Fred has been trying to flog to us .

-- Fred ?

-- He's the publican . Hasn't been here long but he's already trying to change the pub too much.

Peter sensed some bitterness. Some local squabbling perhaps ?

-- I suppose he rents rooms , does he ?

-- He does that , but if you take my advice , you'll find a better place to live than in his pub , growled the milkman .

-- Depends on how long I'll stay , replied Peter. I might even stay on here for a while . Bit tired of humping this thing and I wouldn't mind getting a job locally for a while . Many jobs going ?

-- A few up at the sweets factory . And the farmers can always take on a hand at this time of year .

-- Right , thanks , said Peter . I might stay a night or two at the pub while I look for another place and check out what's doing in the jobs market . Thanks a lot for the help , and the milk .

-- Good day to you then , said the milkman , and started up his float again.

Peter walked back over the road . and resumed a seat on the ruck sack , after he had taken out the few biscuits he had left . Munching quietly on them , washing them down with short swigs of milk , he waited for further signs of life to appear.

It shouldn't be long , he thought , before the inhabitants started about their daily business , and he could perhaps wait till the pub opened before he started enquiries about somewhere to stay . Better still , he could get himself a more substantial breakfast at either the Wishing Well Cafe , or the Jumping Bean Coffee Shop . Either of them would be preferable to the KFC that advertised itself blatantly at the end of the street , and would also be likely to provide him with the information he needed about jobs and accommodation.

Meanwhile , it was turning into a very pleasant morning .