Under duress

Monday, October 13, 2008

unlikely title for a play

"Death of a Hamster"

yes, Bun did finally kick the bucket. Reluctant to either wheelie bin him (or flush) and as we have no garden to speak of (i.e. tiny concrete yard, with pitiful collection of small pots) disposal wasn't so easy. Ended up wrapping the stiff (yet surprisingly still cute) little body in a pair of Rosie's old knickers (biodegradable of course) and taking him to band practise, where he was buried by head-torch, with full honours (including 'The Last Post' played on harmonica in a proper ska-stylee) in a sweet bit of woodland, under a starry, starry sky. If I ever get round to writing a will, think I might request the same.

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