A day in the life of William Frederick, author and decent chap.
Today started as most days do, much too early. I swung my warm feet out of bed and into my cold slippers, made sure that my nightshirt was not held above see-level, stuck between my bum cheeks, and headed for the coffee pot.
Beloved was already up and by the look of the way that she threw yesterday’s stale bread at the birds, rather than to them, I surmised that she had got out of bed from the wrong side. Luckily, I am a very deep sleeper and didn’t notice her clambering over me.
“Good morning, dearest!” I cried in cheerful vain, as I attempted to focus on the kettle.
“That bloody mouse has dug up one of my potted plants and munched the roots. You have to do something!”