DIARY
THE GARDEN PATH BY RAYNOR WINN
We’d walked 234 miles and slept wild for 36 nights. We’d been through lashing rain, torrential downpours and thunderous storms. Yet we had still not reached the gate that promised to lead everyone up the garden path.
As I say, we’d walked 243 miles, and slept wild for 63 nights, surviving on a ration of loaves and fishes.
All that time, Moth had been fluttering about, knocking into lightbulbs, always guided by the light.
The world is an unforgiving place, it truly is. I have always been absent-minded. “Whoops – silly me!” has long been my endearing catchphrase.
So it came as no surprise when – yet again! – I made a silly mistake and absent-mindedly wrote someone else’s name on a cheque and made it out to myself. “Whoops – silly me!” I said to Moth, as I mistakenly popped the cheque in an envelope that I then mistakenly addressed to our bank manager.
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