The Black Sheep
As he walked along, Will shivered and tugged at his jacket
collar. He pulled his flat cap tighter onto his head. It was a bit big but it did him. Overhead a tree flapped about in the breeze. It was just beginning to snow. Will wished he was back home, in the kitchen, sat by the hearth and drinking beer from his tankard. He missed home already and the happy chatter that was to be had. No, he wouldn’t think about home right now he would settle his thoughts on the adventure before him, if of course you could call it an adventure. He was old headed for his 16 years. He knew also that if God had given anyone one of them a brain, it was himself. His Favver … no! He would not think of the Favver or any of the others, though he knew his thoughts would keep going that way. He still had a piece to walk before he would reach the main road. Now where was it Owd Harriet said to look out for? Harriet was really Mother but Will and the other lads always called her Owd Harriet. His mind was back in the house again and in his mind’s eye he saw the lads and Owd Harriet laughing around the hearth all partaking of the beer and a roll up. Harriet brewed the beer; it was a pretty good sup anall. Will shook the image from his brain and tried to focus on the task in hand. The task in hand being to get as far away from home as possible. He felt in his pocket for the few coppers Harriet had given him before he left. She could barely afford it but then he could barely refuse it. |