He sat on the seat with his legs dangling while Widdler the dog ran round in circles unravelling a roll of soft paper, clearly in some kind of dog heaven. Geoffrey felt like a king on his grand throne. Indeed, like many a king, he was perched on the edge precariously, quite concerned that if he wasn’t careful he might slip off; in his case, into the great bowl and its contents below. Eventually, the business at hand being finished, Geoffrey was pleased to see he wouldn’t have to climb up again to reach the chain because someone had very kindly added a length of cord with a cotton reel on the end so it was low enough for him to reach with ease. Picking up Widdler, Geoffrey wandered down to the kitchen hoping to find some breakfast. The big kitchen seemed empty but, as in many kitchens in old houses, there was a lot of life going on out of sight. There were rats romping along the drains, biting through pipes and the backs of cupboards, and popping up in the sink and through the skirting board.
