Leggings – Besmirch the Witch!

Leggings – Besmirch the Witch!

I was in Dereham earlier this week, about to do some shopping, when I was assailed by some long coated influential type men who were engaged in some noisy rally outside the central church – shouting the odds about the loss of some money.

It was apparent that something had gone amiss!

The locals were hell bent on putting them straight. I heard a few phrases such as:

“Leave her alone – she isn't like that!”

“That wasn't her fault. She did her best!”

“She got that one done correctly by the Pope!”

“We got ours! We all got fair allowances!”

“Let's go talk down the Church. The Bishop isn't satisfied!”

I felt a little miffed! Who was he to feel unsatisfied?

I felt the air swirl by my side, and I knew that my companion was back. Tiny hands reached for mine. He did so love the shops. He loved the city – the life of it...

One of the coats leant towards us – his face stuck out forward – he glared.

It was instinct. I put my arm out to ward him off. “Leave him alone!”

I knew the coat could see him. My friend had gone visual!

“Don't touch him!” I defended. The boy beside,,. Wizened, frightened leant backwards in an effort to avoid the face jutting out at him.

“I wouldn't touch him!” the Coat face said quietly, “I wouldn't hurt him!” He glanced back.

Another Coat was watching closely.

“Child of the Shoah!” he said, “Both of them I think!”

Still glaring, I took the boy's hand, “Come on,” I hissed, annoyed to the back teeth of the matter...

“Let's go inside the shop...”

We went leaving the Coats bewailing the facts of doing it wrong.

…....................................................................................

2 days later.

I wake up to voices, smug, nasty voices on the radio stand. “It was her, I tell you!”

“You can't give her any money, I tell you, she's impaired in her facilities!”

Well that's not true. I've been updating my facilities. I got the latest in disabled living!

“Her children did that! Did this! We still got the scars!”

“Give it us, give it us, give it us!”

“This money from America? Is it a lot? It's for us really isn't it?”

I listened to the besmirching half amused. Only it isn't funny.

Apparently they were successful in doing two local wills, recently, getting Sir James Saville's and several of my wills from the past...

I really want this horrible lot of 'specials' done!