Once in a rare while, when petitions have banked to a degree that I can no longer ignore them, I’ll hold a Petition Day where all the inhabitants who have something they wish to discuss with me can come to the palace and gain an audience.
On this particular morning I was busy trying to get to the bottom of my in-box before Petition Time when I heard a loud bang. Not concerned, because sometimes the roof likes to herald its presence by making annoying noises, I continued with the correspondence.
Imagine my horror, then, when peering out at the queue forming to see me I spied one of my subjects in extremis on the palace window ledge.
It looked like Little Spoggy had tried to beat the crowds into the palace only to find what she thought was the entrance barred by an invisible barrier—glass.
I rushed outside and to my relief found her still breathing although her eyes were closed, her mouth open and her heart beating as though it would burst from her chest.
I stroked her little chest to calm her and tried dripfeeding her some water after which The Consort led me away to grieve as he predicted she would not recover.
Imagine my joy then, when an hour later I returned to collect her fragile little body for burial and found her sitting. Another hour later she had recovered sufficiently to fly home.
I hastened to ask what it was she had come to petition me for but she said she had such a headache it had flown right out of her head.
Egbert, on the other hand, was granted his request.
Recent rains have brought about a second flush of new rosehips and I consented to not net them.
I was so upset about Little Spoggy in extremis I felt it not appropriate to capture her image. Egbert, on the other hand, is always happy to pose.