While the Westerlies Sigh / January 26 2008
High winds here in England.
I have just been struggling with Audrey on the recreation ground, holding on to her lead for dear life and trying with all my might to prevent her from becoming airborne.
One of her friends, a little boy named Billy, had to use all his strength to make it over to us, battling against the powerful onslaught of a force ten gale. Breathless, he asked, ‘Can I fly Audrey next?’
‘You ought to get inside,’ I warned him, ‘it’s not safe!’
‘Pardon!?’ he yelled in his little voice.
‘Go home!’ I shouted, but in an instant he was gone, snatched from my presence by the monster gale.
On our return to the house, Audrey and I looked as if we had been held hostage for 90 days in an industrial-sized wind tunnel. ‘It’s a good job the hair police can’t see us, Audrey,’ I told her, ‘or they would arrest us for crimes against fashion.’
‘Indeed - but if it were the eighties, we’d win an award,’ she barked, ironically.
After we’d settled down with a big mug of Earl Grey and a hot buttered crumpet each, I smiled at her and ventured, ‘We do alright, don’t we, kid?’
‘Yes father, we do,’ she said with her eyes, just before we both dozed off.
Filed under Audrey / Billy / English Weather / Life
Comments
2 comments on “While the Westerlies Sigh”
Nelson Galaxy / January 28th, 2008 at 11:00 pm
Please Napoleon, can I fly Audrey next? Please.
Napoleon Fantastic / January 29th, 2008 at 11:23 am
Yes, yes, you can fly Audrey next.
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