You should have seen the startled looks of the locals in Loggos when we disembarked...A boss-eyed pussy cat with cravat askew, and a sleepy meercat, red fez cocked on one side... and the collection of luggage.. one of which fell off the gang plank (a box filled with a selection of monocles and sunglasses which the boys have taken a liking to!)
I've found a place for them to stay.. an eyrie up the hill where the roosters congregate. There, by gnarled old olive trees and tall cypresses they can play lords of their domain..looking down on the twinkling lights of Loggos and it's tiny horse-shoe-shaped harbour. Hopefully there they will keep out of mischief and harms way,
Vladimir has been checking out the local talent and is not impressed with the scruffy felines begging at the tavernas. Maurice,of course,is a curiosity where ever he goes. He particularly enjoys perching on the tables at Spiros bar and sampling the strawberry daiqueries. Vladamir has taken to sitting at the quayside awaiting the return of the fishing boats and hoping for handouts.
Not surprisingly the boys have run out of money and sidled upto me the first evening. Scratching wildly at his tummy (always a give away) Maurice indirectly brought up the subject...how expensive it was with the euro exchange...and how accustomed to the good life they had become..interspersed with outrageous compliments to me. Not seduced by his flattery I told both boys that thier allowance had been used up and they would have to work for thier keep. This did not go down well...thus the following letter i've been asked to forward to mama junior.
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