A room with a view

... Duly I awoke from this most delicious reverie to find that my mysterious attendee had instantly departed. I rose from my seat and walked briskly towards the exit, just as the mandrills sprung upon the serving boy and wrenched the gizzard from his neck.

The evening light was dusking as I walked down The Strand through the bustle of wenches, pederasts, ablutophobes, kanomaniacs, whores, pedlers, tapsters, scatomancers, virgins, traipsers and trawlers, bellygods, bastards, apes, idlomancers, rapers, morons, slavocrats, idolators and tapeworm-diners, broadsmen, didikkos, mandrakes, shofulmen and tea leaves, until finally I found that I had arrived at Bishopsgate Metropolitan railway station.

Entering the station, I handed over a penny to the man from the Metropolitan Railway, and boarded a standard gauge locomotive, taking a seat in a carriage next to a vicar and an elderly lady who was engaged in work upon a needlepoint cushion. Looking closely I noticed that the image she was creating was one of a man waiting outside a schoolyard with a gun. Noticing my interest, she smiled primly.

The train pulled into Pinner, and it was here that I disembarked, and quickly paced across the village green towards the high street. I found a lodging house and ventured inside, ringing the bell at the reception. A short ugly man walked in from an office and after some brief pleasantries I requested to take a room for the forseeable future, one that must have a north-facing aspect. He nodded in knowing accordance, and escorted me to a room. I immediately went to the window and found it to have a perfect view over the Pinner Memorial Park.

"I'll take it," I  told the fellow, and placed a rusty button in his hairy palm. He smiled inanely and left me to my business. And so it was that I began to plot my task in hand.