Before we get into the igloos (literally and proverbially) and before I wax lyrical all about how I treated Pumpkin to a sporadic weekday breakfast one frosty November morning, I must ‘fess up as to why. (I should probably keep schtum about the truth to preserve what is left of my reputation but where is the fun in that? Your lives are too busy for a dull read after all.)
You see, the truth is, I might be a grown up and a professional entrusted to look after the health and welfare of the public but I also happen to be the woman who locked herself between her own two front doors, requiring a valiant knight in shining armour to come and rescue her.
I may even be the woman, who managed to do this twice.