Day In The Life Of A Donkey Part Four
A fade factor that is imperceptible in its licence.
“Did we set in train something that day we met?
The law is an ass.
The lawn is an ass and maybe ASS we are reminiscing like?”
Nigella wistfully with a gratuitous grin this time.
This day was a nab and seize for a second pause for solid recount.
Oh what a different mystical era it was in Nigel and Nigella’s formative age.
The simplicity of this area, though a shelter, fed off the pervasive advent of black and white television, electricity pylons, and familiar tone presenter radio.
How Nigel and nigella whilst living in birdnest style buildings didn't succumb entirely to a drab rut though they found themselves cramped.
A store of light tinge whimsy memories linger against a backdrop to a burgh whose population were in a state of flux with an element in a sneaky outward creep to an “Elsewhere Nirvana.”
At least for the time being though suspenseful.
The town itself was sandwiched by a concentric vista of numbingly lush pastures with gates for a suite of animals, donkeys, among the more popular pet of choice despite being on the receiving end of comedians and their rustic sleights and barbs.
An idyllic garden ringfenced this condensed area which once had an ample size but a quiet trickle exodus that might be a chimera.
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