Separate beds
He did have a good day yesterday though. Baby, as the infant predator has been named, continues to cause chaos at the Hall. Young Dean was in the tiger compound and the cub reached out with its gargantuan paw and ripped off his trouser leg. Dean, holding a bucket of extremely strong smelling cub faeces, screamed and threw the sewerage all over Brigitte, who was coming to check on Baby. Her immaculate hair hung awkwardly in brown dreadlocks, her spotless quilted jacket had artistic splattering and even her gold earrings dripped with poo. Not a happy lady! The Captain danced a jig upstairs, overjoyed at the sight (I have only once witnessed him have genuine compassion for a woman; Old Williams wife, Maria who was an elegant, spirited woman. I think he fell in love…).>
Brigitte is here every other day, spending a lot of time with the cub; checking its nails, brushing its soft fur and just generally ignoring it whilst using her phone. A little odd really, as she is huddled up out there in the cold but perhaps she likes her privacy. Emily thinks she has a secret but we can’t get close enough to see her phone because that demon black dog keeps getting in the way. Always whizzing about at high speed, it knocks us for six when it flies through us. Nightmare! We still don’t know its name. We have a plan though…
Martial Peace and War
And a question; Adults in love. They sleep in the same bed usually don’t they? It’s just; they sleep apart, Charles and Brigitte. Now, I’ve seen the older folks taking separate rooms after many years of marital peace and war but young lovers? Charles is an atheist and Brigitte a religious mystery. She certainly doesn’t get up early for church on a Sunday; she waits for breakfast in bed, in her bed. He snores but without the operatic resonance of his father’s snorts that echo through the Hall as I type. So dare I ask, what’s her problem?
So, farewell sweet readers and remember; things don’t just go bump in the night…