CMC encourages Eleanor to stop eating mustard

Scullion gently banged the breakfast gong and I padded through to the breakfast room for my Loch Fyne kipper with yak’s butter and a roll.  Then on to dancing at the Toon Hall; my cravat and monocle didn’t go down to well.  HQ taxis has just received a job to help a Blipper – the meter is already running.


As I write it’s a perfect winter’s night – wind southeast – 42 mph and three degrees centigrade.  No relation of Lew apparently.