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Field mouse woke up. Asleep for many years. It had grown a moustache and side burns. Oh how dreadful cried sally spider peering into the mouse house. How terribly unbecoming and unsuitable for holding the silver goblet at the halibut harlequin hall. Field mouse responded. In mind. In thoughts. Looking into the can that had been dropped into his hole by a two legged fiend. At least it made a good mirror. Although he was grateful that he was out at the time of delivery. The bars above. With the sun. Oh up there. No friend. Oh well. And proceeded to cut customise and shave. With other dropped prizes. Plus thefts. Spider grinned. And manicured herself. Silvery bed. Oh how wonderful. Field mouse in a suit. Spider in gown. Halibut hall. Dance. Supper. Stupors'. And nonsense talk of trapped tapered topiary's traditional traders. Good good good good good. next week new news. Great. Xxxx xylophones xo xo xo. And a half day off work. Great. Deuteronomy z

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