'Er what writes the books has scarpered. Scarpered off to York for two days. No doubt 'er will be telling you all about it, but you might remind 'er I can't see a thing for blooming leaves. Frost I don't
mind. Stone gnomes are tough stuff. But them leaves is a nuisance. Tell 'er her
can compost 'em. I don't mind if 'er collects 'em and builds a copy of the eye-full
tower with 'em, so long as she gets 'em off me and me snail.
And me snail just sneezed. He's got a sycamore leaf up his nose.
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