Friday Fiction…

Yawn! I’ve had about 3 hours sleep and have a sick Porglet Maximus. As a result, my brain is mince and the thought of dragging polished words out of my head is laughable. However, you’re in luck because here are some I prepared earlier in the week. This is, in fact, the opening paragraph to the saga “proper”, after a Forewarned (no, not a sleep-deprived typo!) and “An brief history”.

“It was in AD 849 or thereabouts, that a great storm raged over Ireland. Winds lashed the sea into a froth rivalling that on any badly poured pint of Guinness. Trees were toppled. Buildings were swept up into the clouds and dropped on unsuspecting little old ladies in red shoes. Cows, depending on which way the wind was blowing, found themselves cud-less or chewing something that we shall euphemistically term “almost a cow-pat but not quite”. Even the sheep looked startled, and it takes a lot to startle a sheep.”

I’m now going to snooze with the dog and poorly Porglet. Have a good weekend!

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