The Weather in South Wootton

In the garden, I splashed about in mud up to my chest. Half-frozen, lumpy mud. Typical. No other children experienced slush and hail at their summer-holiday-destinations. Closer to the fence, the mud became deeper and soon I disappeared under the surface. The exit must have drifted past me because when I thought I had swum back to the house I found a cave instead. In the cave sat a small gnome-woman with my aunt’s face. She had a loom which she used to weave one black cloud after another. When I asked her which direction my house was, she said:

‘Shh! I’m weaving.’

‘But how am I going to get home from here?’

‘It cannot possibly be my problem whether you can find your way or not,’ her fingers flew back and forth another black cloud appearing under them.

I gave up asking her anything more after that.

It took me hours before I found my way home.

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    Posted on December 9, 2012

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