When I lived in Los Angeles, I worked at an exclusive country club.
For the most part, it was utter hell and I was in a bad way every time the alarm clock rang and I knew my fate for the next eight hours.
There were, however, a few pluses to my job.
The waitstaff and other workers were for the most part terrific and wonderfully kind people, which made taking abuse at the clawed hands of Botox addicts somehow bearable.
I named him that for no particular reason: all I can say is that it fit him well;
'he' being a squirrel whose sex I couldn't be bothered to investigate!
Two fifteen minute breaks per day, I went down to the tennis courts and got a cup of peanuts from the snack shop and for the duration of my break, Mark would dance in and out of my hands, sometimes sticking around even after the food was gone
sitting quietly with me
under the breezy palm trees
amid the ladies and lords of leisure...
it is with him in mind that I make this purse
and let me tell you:
it's a pleasure to remember his lovely little self.