Urgg.
Looks like I forgot to write for almost an entire week.
Uggh.
Ok , here goes.
Fat Andy
Master Andrew was a fat man. He'd been fat most of his life. He'd been little Andy as a child, but only briefly before his uncle named his fat Andy. The appalling appellation stuck. Even in his dowager years, and yes he was a dowager, for as a young boy he had been married off to the Earl of Knightsbridge, and was legally for all intents and purposes from then on a woman, but even in his dowager year, antiquated, set upon by consumption and syphilis, rail thin and transparent like waxed paper, trapped on the third floor of the manor our of fear of falling down the great stairs, even then weighing less than 10 stone, his weight on entering grammar school, he was still to everyone who spoke of him Fat Andy.
Fat Andy, the Odd Widow on the hill. Fat Andy mistress of the manor house. Fat Andy the nursemaid and mother to 7 orphans, from the war. Fat Andy the coward, Fat Andy the courageous, and in the end, when they finally laid him to rest, after the servants had all fled the terrible storm of 1893, and the manor was buried in sleet, when the baying of the horses dying in the stables drove Fat Andy from his bed, his own cries ignored by the servants, long gone for home themselves, driven to despair by the thought of his prized horses dying in the cold, fat Andy, Frail Andy, Old widow boy Andy, made his way to the great staircase of the manor house and half way down them, before his ankle gave and he tumbled and fell, snapping like apple bark as he tumbled down the great stone steps, and lay himself near dead and dying serenaded by the cries of his stable house, and died together that night with all but one of his horses, even then, with the last of his horses pulling the wagon that held his tiny coffin, His Pall Bearers numbering 12 when only two were really needed, his children returned from adventure and exploit around the globe, his servants all in tears, even then, when they laid him to rest, It was Fat Andy, the dead man.
And it was Fat Andy, Son, Wife, Mother of 7, that was chilseled on the tomb stone where he was lain to rest.
Uggh.
Ok , here goes.
Fat Andy
Master Andrew was a fat man. He'd been fat most of his life. He'd been little Andy as a child, but only briefly before his uncle named his fat Andy. The appalling appellation stuck. Even in his dowager years, and yes he was a dowager, for as a young boy he had been married off to the Earl of Knightsbridge, and was legally for all intents and purposes from then on a woman, but even in his dowager year, antiquated, set upon by consumption and syphilis, rail thin and transparent like waxed paper, trapped on the third floor of the manor our of fear of falling down the great stairs, even then weighing less than 10 stone, his weight on entering grammar school, he was still to everyone who spoke of him Fat Andy.
Fat Andy, the Odd Widow on the hill. Fat Andy mistress of the manor house. Fat Andy the nursemaid and mother to 7 orphans, from the war. Fat Andy the coward, Fat Andy the courageous, and in the end, when they finally laid him to rest, after the servants had all fled the terrible storm of 1893, and the manor was buried in sleet, when the baying of the horses dying in the stables drove Fat Andy from his bed, his own cries ignored by the servants, long gone for home themselves, driven to despair by the thought of his prized horses dying in the cold, fat Andy, Frail Andy, Old widow boy Andy, made his way to the great staircase of the manor house and half way down them, before his ankle gave and he tumbled and fell, snapping like apple bark as he tumbled down the great stone steps, and lay himself near dead and dying serenaded by the cries of his stable house, and died together that night with all but one of his horses, even then, with the last of his horses pulling the wagon that held his tiny coffin, His Pall Bearers numbering 12 when only two were really needed, his children returned from adventure and exploit around the globe, his servants all in tears, even then, when they laid him to rest, It was Fat Andy, the dead man.
And it was Fat Andy, Son, Wife, Mother of 7, that was chilseled on the tomb stone where he was lain to rest.