WfW 03-06-2020 Part 2

So many words. Now I have used some of them:  

union    holiday    rational    recover    collect    headline
global    perception    sin    wrong    finance    gaffe
  The next week of the holiday was very busy for Susan. Every morning she left home with some excuse, biked to the old lumber yards, hid her bike and jumped through the portal to Unicorn Farm, where she learned, practised and taught magic all day long. She returned for dinner with her family, and after dinner she once again mounted her bike and met with the others either at Stellan's place or in the House. They practised the new, Irish ballad, old, known pieces and new to them numbers Susan even played the violin in one very easy piece. Tuesday was the big day. Laurids collected her in the contraption, as she was dressed in her finest and carried a violin, a guitar and a big crate of home made cookies. The concert went well, everybody sang, danced, applauded, ate and drank and generally had fun. Susan was late for classes at the Unicorn Farm next morning. As she arrived home, Mom had bought the local paper, and proudly pointed to the headline: "The local band was a roaring success!" Susan avidly read the article, and noticed to her chagrin that the journalist had committed a gaffe, he had spelled Stellan's, Marion's and her name wrong.
  "Well it's not a sin," Mom said laughing, "but I sure hope he has recovered from his hangover before writing about the scandal in the Union' finances today."
  "Ahh," Susan yawned and stretched mightily. "Tonight there's no more practice in the House. I think I'm going to lay it off for the rest of the holiday. I'm not made for the live of a musician."
  "I second that," Mum said, "you've been looking far too stretched these last days."
  "Yes, I like making music, I like making people happy, but those late evenings, and the stress to perform ... that's just not me."
  "What are you going to do today?" Mum asked.
  "Nothing!"
  "Shouldn't we go for a ride?" Daddy suggested "I'd like to smell the sea, and maybe eat one of those big ice cream cones from the small harbour."
  "Oh yes," Susan and Linda said in unison. And they ran off gathering bathing suits, towels, books and pencils, things without which no trip was perfect.

As Susan sat in the car on the way home from a lovely day at the beach it suddenly struck her who had been following her that night, and she began laughing. It was a drunkard, an old one, at least in Susan's eyes. He was normally found at the market place with a bottle of the local brew in hand yelling after all and sundry. He was almost totally harmless, well he yelled, and when he was not understood, or when people tried to avoid him, his frustration sometimes led to to him lashing out: But when drunk and aggressive, he was so unsteady on his legs, that it was no problem at all for Susan to escape him. He might have been lost, that night, Susan thought. I was a fool to get all worked up over the local village idiot.

And here this little story ends - maybe.