The Nefarious Dr Bucket

When I was on the Isle of Man a couple of months ago, there was a group of rebel students from the University of Liverpool. They had been brainwashed and absorbed into the gang of Dr Bucket, a nefarious sort from North of the Border.

 Dr Bucket and one of his henchmen in action

The last day Dr Bucket's gang were on site was very wet and we couldn't work, so they were tasked with some menial job, like washing finds, or labelling pottery. Basically, something I didn't want to do. It was during this time, when I was engaged elsewhere, that Dr Bucket hatched a plot against me and my boots. I returned to the mess tent to find my boots missing and a hand scrawled note on my tent door. This led me to follow several other clues until I finally found my boots. Below are the clues, please excuse the childish scrawl:

An aside; the wench mentioned in the note was Heather, who had the next clue secreted about her person. She is seated on the extreme right of this picture taken a few hours before the boot scam. She is holding her clue and braying at poor unsuspecting me. 

Each of the locations mentioned were at least two football fields apart from each other as shown by this picture of our site camp and my movements therein:

So, I found the boots and thought little of Dr Bucket's gang until two weeks later when a letter arrived for me:

Fin