William by Adam Rutter

William                                                credit Adam Rutter

William is 75 years of age, and he is still quick-off-the-mark with his humour, as though he were a 20 year old. William bounces from one joke to another like a ping pong ball. When he tells the first joke, that’s what gets the ball rolling. His jokes snowball into a series of gags. Pub intended. William loves gardening. It is his usual plot. He spends most of his time by the box hedge, making sure I get box-ed in with the job. He grows potatoes, and everybody calls him Spud. William has grown a variety of flowers, including tulips, hydrangea, lupin, daffodils, not to mention a cordyline. He really has branched out with gardening. He spends a lot of time with the cats. Or the cats spend a lot of time with William. Lots of furry visitors go to his garden from around the neighbourhood. One has a thick coat and bushy tail. Its name is Millie. She loves having a lot of fuss, so much so that she follows William everywhere in the garden, putting him through the Mill-ie. William lived in a four-bedroom house, in the hamlet of Tythe Barn. Behind his house lay an empty barn. The barn had been empty for eight years. He decided to convert the barn into an annexe for his home, to accommodate his extensive collection of books on horticulture and horticultural related subjects. The barn conversion was also used as a makeshift shed, to store his pots, and plant flower bulbs. His furry friends wandered in and out. One of them knocked a pot off the table, smashing on the floor.

‘Oh Millie,’ cried William. ‘Oh well,’ he continued. ‘I won’t make a fuss-pot over it.