... a Princess was cast out. She had to leave her home, never to return, and move to a foreign Kingdom. There was a wonderful castle waiting for her in a distant County and her belongings were finally delivered one sunny February morning.
Alas and lack-a-day, the castle had been overcome by the Black Plague: the mould that wounds or kills everyone in its path when it enters their lungs. Nevertheless, she and her courtiers soldiered on until, eventually, the new home was almost fit for a Princess.
Alas and lack-a-day, the Princess soon discovered that the hot water didn't work; the heating didn't work; water pipes leaked into the bathroom from the lofty awesomeness of the attics above and, each time the Princess bathed or had a shower, floods of soapy, scented water would cascade from the old iron downpipes to the exterior windows, splashing pretty patterns on its descent.
Alas and lack-a-day, the grumpy old King didn't keep his part of the bargain to pay for structural faults so the Princess had to lump it and do the best she could but she shivered while the structure of the house continued to deteriorate around her.
Alas and lack-a-day, the mystical three-legged ginger cat, Suki, developed a cold. With sneezes, runny eyes and plaintive mewling the Being was only silent when he knew, in his cat's eye, where the Princess was. He was constantly at her side, whether she was in the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room or the back yard, he was always watching, sneezing or prostrating himself at her feet at the top of the palatial staircase or whilst she was carrying a heavy tray back to the kitchen.
The Princess erected the name-plate for the Castle so the Postie could know where to find her, more curtainings were fitted and the centuries-old growth of convolvulus and ivy was sprayed with Weedol. It did, however, rain shortly afterwards and whether our Sleeping Beauty within will awake remains a moot point.
The story continues.
Alas and lack-a-day:
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