Pio paused in her game of darts as the familiar figure passed by. ‘Now what’s the old trout up to?’ she wondered. Reaching for her everpresent mug of stout, she ambled over to the iron plaque. Her pink tinged computer glasses rested lightly on the top of her head as she leaned in to see the bright, new name.
‘Fordim Hedgethistle! Well, well . . .’
Turning, she lifted her glass in salute, thinking that perhaps he was waiting in the shadows. ‘Welcome, and well done! Come have a glass!’ she called out, her grey eyes narrowing as she looked about the dim lit room.
Kudos, Fordim!
