I, PRIESTESS (1)
Well, the heatwave was killing, I'll bet you a shilling, you were glad as I was when it ended.
Headache and nauseous, lethargic and langourous: my ankles were swollen, my stomach distended.
(Thank God, for the sauvignon blanc.)
When the sun left the sky, I watered the garden. I had to do something to stop the soil hardening.
The plants, for the most part, survived - all but one.
But, the roundabout cats are too many to number. (They belong to my neighbour: the town's local butcher.)
It distressed me to notice one evening (in passing) his ginger tom pissing on my ornamental grasses.
I decided to buy a shot-gun.
Now the cats number many and the butcher still loves them - minus one.
