How it Came to be that i did spy The Beast of Bodmin part 2

We were there in our secluded cottage for a whole week on the edge of that damned moor. A week that I for one can never forget as it left its mark on my soul as if the prevaling precipitation had dribbled down the back of my shirt to the top of the crack in my arse before dribbling down said fetid canyon to create an ill feeling of moistness that seemed to mirror the mood of muyself my new wife and our daughter all cast hideously adrift and alone on the moor. Even the dog, mr poo was feeling out of sorts and wasn't so keen on getting the old lipstick out in front of the fire as is usually his want. And the dampness did pervade mr poo as well and he is well known for being a stranger to the bath and he did indeed begin to smell like a wet dog all lilke a subtle blend of urine, jism and sweat. I love mr poo i do. He is great.

By the end of the week we had just about had enough of the fucking weather and we were due to go home. It was saturday night and it was raining. I was largely miserable and slightly drunk. Nothoing could bring a smile to my countenance. I was despondant. I decided to take the dogs for a walk. In the rain. At night. On to that desolate blasted heath. Alone. but with the dogs like.



to be continued..........