Escape Tunnel Robo Pony

LAST NIGHT'S TWO ODD DREAMS:
#1: standard anxiety dream about my robbies - all 3 - escaping and a-scamper all over the shop! Desperate on hands and bended knees I stooped down to reclaim them. But to no avail. For the last I saw was their tubby bums vanishing down ancient gnawed-out Tom & Jerry style arch-shaped mouseholes.
#2 The early morning radio programme about the countryside was a-blaring and I was a-sliping 'tween sloom and slumber and Radio 4 documenatary and dreams in such iridescent technicolour I suddenly was watching television! It was all about wild the wild donkeys of Dartmoor - mini entertaining wild horses - ponies if you prefer - the tourists flock to them. Apparently they are farmed. There were 20,000 such roborovski-style horses 20 years ago when the French market for human-consumed horseflesh was at a peak... And in the 1900s when pitponies were needed for the nearby mines 1000s upon 1000s more...

In my dream I was down the rain-dripping tinmines with a thousand poor pet donkies tethered to railway carts in the ever-deepening Canary-killing dank and gloom.

Apparently the poor ponies, confined for months at a time miles into the mountains got so accustomed to 24-hour dark that when finally they were "retired" off and dumped surface-side, the outside world with all its distractions and the gently stirring fragrant heathers and gorse and most especially of course the sheer blinding force of sunlight drove them bucking and whinnying to insane distraction. Poor ponies.

I was still feeling so sorry for these little horses when I woke up.

*

Dickens' Oliver Twist is going really well.

I've done 160 pages in a day and a half.

Now time is short and I cannot babble. I hope everyone's having a cheery weekend. Especially Mr Atkinson, newly free after nearly 4 years in a sweating pink underpants American jail!

Back Monday!

NO! STOP PRESS 7:28 PM SUNDAY NIGHT; I'M COMING BACK IN A MINUTE!!