Summary
IHAVE not been untouched by the chill finger of disappointment. Only recently a figure of pulsating pulchritude approached me and asked if I would sponsor her on a run. "I'm trying to savethe otter," she said. "Well, save one for me," I enthused, chucking her a twenty.
In my head, I named it Diego, picturing my little feral friend with a white smudge on his nostrils. In my garden, I constructed a water feature for my new little pal. It matches the water feature in the living room. Well, I call it a water feature. The wife, and the chartered surveyor, call it rising damp.See the full content of this document
Extract
Hugh Macdonald; Looks at the Tortured Life of a Golfer
Anyway, it has been some weeks now, and little Diego is no nearer Chez Shug. Ms Pulchritude is fobbing me off with excuses (and a restraining order, two visits from Her Majesty's Constabulary, ...
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