The Day Is ComingHas it been a week?
No calendars within view, it seems by intention the days on Indiening Island go unrecorded. For the herd of donors simply wile away the time, no point in knowing the time, the day of the week... even the month for that matter. Terming the large field ‘the pasture’ seems apropos, Miss Beth frequently leading me past the herd for my daily exercise. The naked, trussed and constantly erect donors merely strut about, most times congregating in the shade as the capped p*****s heat painfully in the sunlight.
On one morning the dogs were active, the donors prancing about in a large circle, on toes just as Miss Beth has been training me. ‘Exercise time’, Miss Beth succinctly explained as I watched the hounds trotting behind, threatening a nip to the ankle of a
