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The Fox and the Watch

Chapter 1

At the mere hour of 7 am on a Sunday morning, a curious head peeped over the blankets. These blankets were contained in an illustrious wooden hand carved bed. In a matter of seconds there was a crash. The curious head, followed by the body to which it was attached, had suffered a slight bump. Rising from the floor, a man appeared. He was rightful the owner of the curious head of earlier discussion. It was evident at this point that the man lacked in height. His feet were quite tiny, his legs were not of great significance but he made up for a little of this in the vastness of his stomach. On top of this body sat the curious head.

His face boasted kindly features. His ears were small and unobtrusive, he had a wide and welcoming grin but his eyes had a glint in them. This glint suggested different things to different people. Some said that he had a glint of kindness, others proposed a glint of knowledge and some went as far as to say that these eyes had a glint of cheekiness. Yet, despite his features, he stood there with proud posture wearing a curious expression as the sun shone through his window directly onto him.

He had always enjoyed his Sunday routine, but today it was going to be altered. At this point, he would normally take a bath. However, it was a warm day and after consulting his routine he opened his door to the sunny countryside. With a yelp of joy and wonderment he slipped into his garments and sat in the front balcony in his favourite chair. He was a man who made it a habit to be well-dressed; today's attire consisted of the customary trousers, shirt, and waistcoat with pocket watch draped across and a tweed jacket which completed the ensemble favourably. In his possession were a hot cup of tea and a bundle of files, handsaws and a vast roll of sand paper. The sun beamed down on him with blazing eyes and carefully inspected what this specimen was up to.

If there was one thing in the world this man loved, it was carving. The very bed he slept in was made from his own hands. Many of the chairs in his house were of his own working. Instead of saying Please take seat' he could have replaced these words with Please sit on one of my masterpieces'. In the town he was famous for his work in the shaping of wood. He had supplied several of the public benches. This was his one hobby which could occupy him for many years. His present project was that of carving the frame for a park swing. At this point, he held a sturdy rectangle

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