Enjoying sitting in the garden

“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.