“Now, my dear, you may
go into the garden,” said my mum.
I recall my best days.
I was very naughty,
ran straight away to the backyard of the shrine or squeezed under the gate. But
my mum ran after me, calling out, “Stop Pinot! Pippy, Pippyyyyy…”
Further back to my
heyday in London, I climbed upon the roof, or jumped over the fence and got
into Mrs D’s garden, upsetting some plants.
My mum caught sight of
me, but I didn’t care.
Now, I’m enjoying
sitting in the garden with some beautiful flowers. I won’t get into mischief
anymore.
My mum has gone back
to her work in peace.