LXXXVI: The Case of the Ambulant Patients

You may remember some weeks back she bought thread. I didn't much care for the looks of it, or what it might portend. But as time went on and nothing more happened, I began to believe we might be spared . . .

Alas, no.

Because then she brought out these:

Needles. Of varying sizes, but all of them sharp. Oh yes.

I was excluded from the worst of it. Turned out my coat just needed a bit of mending. John, on the other hand, required help with his male pattern baldness. His hair, you will be glad to learn, is now securely fixed to his head.

And Jim . . . Well, his head had fallen off. I would have been fine with it remaining separated from his shoulders, but she opted to go through with the surgery. It was a success. Unfortunately.

Then, today, once she'd decided we were satisfactorily recuperated, we were dragged back to this place. Apparently she's determined (or the children are) to make it an annual visit.

We visited Robinson Crusoe's island

And the Crooked Man's house

And rode the Jolly Trolly

. . . with the girl

John discovered how quite contrary
Mistress Mary really can be

And I found Bluebell
(Yes, John, I know it's Peter Rabbit; I was . . . No, never mind,
it's not funny if I have to explain it.)

And afterward: A drink.

The outing counts as a success considering John's hair and Jim's head stayed on.