Green grow the rushes O…

Stuart being suspiciously creative…

Stuart France

X heather weekend 217

The Grand-Father Clock, tock…tock…tocked reassuringly in the corner of the oak panelled study.

Through the window to one side the ancient time piece’s Big Brother could be discerned dominating the metropolitan sky-line…

Tee, was wilfully oblivious of the time.

He deliberately shuffled the pile of predominantly red and black images on his large teak writing desk for the third time and shifted uneasily in his racing green, leather upholstered, swivel chair.

Then he snorted…

It was the snort of a man determined to do something, somehow, anyhow about whatever it was that currently irked him.

Tee snorted again, “Not in this day and age, Carstairs!”

Carstairs hovered about the edges of the large teak writing desk, diligently, attentively, but non the wiser as to the immediate source of Tee’s irritation.

“No, Sir?” he squeaked inquisitively.

One of the predominantly red and black photographic images slid across the writing desk towards…

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