Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Nick, May Day, 2015

A foot was thrust into my line of vision with an injunction to look. Unable to think of a suitable retort to this unusual command, I complied. The foot appeared to be just that… a foot. Not a particularly attractive member, but fully supplied with the requisite number of toes, flushed pink. There was nothing at all remarkable about it. Attached as it was to an appropriately hairy leg it was, quite simply, a foot, evidently of the male variety.

I had woken to brilliant sunshine. The fact that it was a little after five in the morning and I hadn’t gone to bed till one had made me groan, but it had promised to be a good day for the gardening I was determined to do when I got home. Then I moved, and groaned some more at the seized hands and feet…