My Escapade with Daisy
I once worked as a housekeeper for the rich and affluent Goldwell family and their spoilt and bratish ten year old twins.
They lived in an expensive rambling farmhouse in Wiltshire. It was my unfortunate lot in life to run the farm with the help of Joe, a dim witted giant of a man with a speech impediment. Although Joe was a kind and gentle imbecile, it didn't pay to get to close to him as you could find yourself drowned in his spittle.
Some years earlier, Mr and Mrs Goldwell bought their rascal twins a pet lamb. The children named her Daisy. Daisy was loved dearly and was treated as part of the family and to my disgust she was even allowed in the farmhouse kitchen. Joe of course adored and doted on her.
All my troubles began when the Gold well's took their annual holiday. I was left with the help of the nitwit Joe to run the farm and of course to indulge and pander to Daisy the blasted sheep.
I drove to work expecting the usual day but a red-eyed weeping Joe met me at the gate.
"Tttthhhh" he stammered and sprayed
"What ever is the matter Joe?" I asked, puzzled and stepping back from the line of spit he was spraying.
I once worked as a housekeeper for the rich and affluent Goldwell family and their spoilt and bratish ten year old twins.
They lived in an expensive rambling farmhouse in Wiltshire. It was my unfortunate lot in life to run the farm with the help of Joe, a dim witted giant of a man with a speech impediment. Although Joe was a kind and gentle imbecile, it didn't pay to get to close to him as you could find yourself drowned in his spittle.
Some years earlier, Mr and Mrs Goldwell bought their rascal twins a pet lamb. The children named her Daisy. Daisy was loved dearly and was treated as part of the family and to my disgust she was even allowed in the farmhouse kitchen. Joe of course adored and doted on her.
All my troubles began when the Gold well's took their annual holiday. I was left with the help of the nitwit Joe to run the farm and of course to indulge and pander to Daisy the blasted sheep.
I drove to work expecting the usual day but a red-eyed weeping Joe met me at the gate.
"Tttthhhh" he stammered and sprayed
"What ever is the matter Joe?" I asked, puzzled and stepping back from the line of spit he was spraying.