14 September 2027
Tuesday. Spring. Pair at the gate tonight who told me, proud as anything, that it was their first ever escape room.
I didn’t say anything. Not my place. But I thought about the noises I hear from the shed, the shouting through the timber, the long quiet bits, and I thought: oh dear.
The staff had a word, as they do. Gentle. Said the plots are about as hard as anything they run, and that most people work up to them, starting somewhere with more light and fewer lids. Pirates, they said. Wizards. Somewhere with a bit of air.
The pair thought about it and rebooked for the autumn, after a couple of practice goes elsewhere. I said I’d have the plots ready. They asked what I did. I said I fill in the holes afterwards. They looked at each other the way people do.
Tally: plots disturbed, two, by old hands. Beginners, two, sent off to practise. Good luck to them.
— H., groundskeeper
