It was a wet day. The sun was shining. Birds shook off the rain, and chirped to their heart's delight. One song even included several telephone rings.
Atilla gazed at the scene without joy. It was still too wet to go for a walk to the playground. Mum was insistent on that.
He had on his galoshes and play clothes so he could walk in his wet wet garden. Dad had not cut the grass yet, so it was as tall as his knees.
Walking in it was an adventure. He might find a squelchy grapefruit. Or tangelo. Or loquat. Or cat poo.
The Triple Lock
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I want to write something on this because it's been in the news lately, and
people have been misunderstanding me on social media. Which is a little
awkward...
5 days ago
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