Thursday will soon be upon me, and I shall embark upon a journey of a thousand suns into the deserts of the south, where life will be an ‘enfer’, flayed in the heat of our great orb in the sky, suffering it’s infernal punishment. I will be unable to write. Despatches will remain lost in the sands of time. But fear not my congregation, the wolf looks after its sheep.
I have therefore battled long and hard this past week to write advanced despatches from the trenches of Paris, that I can post daily in my absence – like Lawrence of Arabia, or The Desert Rats, I shall not fail ye.
I trust that this missive provides succour that this looming eclipse will not blot out the light of our days.
Your faithful servant,
Lord Fotheringay Cholmondeley Binary, Brigadier of the Seven Kingdoms and Wet Nurse to the Admiralty.
© Dominic Penhale | All Rights Reserved