series1bk2.9.2

 

A gushing salubrious relief floods my blood,  rushing to a palpitating heart, when I hear the fear of failure was unreal: that I've actually made the grade for Eton's highest accolade. Swathed in coloured silk, with chequered bags, my bragging port has caught the peacock's image; trimly iridescent in sizzling finery, I'm mindful of august tradition in standing and renown. Town faces turn towards me, gaudily lording commands with finger-snapping ease, receiving evident respect and adulation for my gracious presence and bold unquestioned authority.      Such popularity, for ever more      should open for me every single door.