I think the whole family have a new best friend called Rosie.


Waking up to a thumping headache, a headache born of far too much of last evening’s scarlet Bordeaux, a bleary eyed cursory morning glance toward the bedside table only to spot what I thought had been the stuff of dissolving dreams, namely a post-it note I’d scribbled upon that read, ‘Miss Rosie Mayday Lily Eve Blamey-Steeden’.

A few four-letter words later, plus a question to self, “Did I really write that…what planet was I on?”

I’ll explain. After days and days of wretched insomnia, a genuine madness about me and my old adversary ‘corbeau sombre’ lurking on a branch in the immediate background, a promise made at sunset the previous day was to become a reality. ‘Miss Rosie Mayday Lily Eve Blamey-Steeden’…what a ridiculous handle if there ever was one, and I should know having written it…a puppy dog, a baby lurcher to be precise, was the promise made…

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