I tell you, the Piper at the Gates of Dawn can be such a pain.
Especially at this time of year, when the ground is soft and his hooves cut into the turf. Although at least he's not prancing around with those pipes knocking the blossom off the trees like he does in the spring.
Thankfully the Wodewose appears to be quite a match from him. This morning I was up early when I heard that familiar and annoying tootling coming from the Orchard. Great, I thought, that's all I need. Then I heard an almighty thump. It was the sound of the Wodewose bashing him over the pointy head with his club. The Wodewose had been up a bit late debating theology with some bats, and he was hoping for a bit of a lie-in.
I tell you, the sight of the debased form of a Graeco-Roman deity, skulking into the woods to find some ice for his bump. It warms your heart, it does.
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