Opening Paragraphs of "Percival:The Mrodic Wars"



"Percival: The Mrodic Wars" was written as a blog for my children. This used to be their bed time story. When the blog disappeared, I wrote it as a book, and published it as a book, on Amazon. It tells the story and adventures of Percival the Pig. Here goes

Percival was a pig, and the proudest specimen of pig that could be found in all of Percival's Land, for that is where he lived. Percival's life was uniformly happy and followed a routine that was generally unvarying. His father had left him enough money to keep him and the next two generations in comfort, and without the need for work. But work he did, for Percival loved money, and he loved to be important. Yet, he did not spend his days and nights slaving in the office. He worked at a comfortable pace, as and when he felt like. He had a sort of genius for making money, having managed to multiply his father's legacy to no inconsiderable extent. 

So yes, life was very comfortable indeed. Percival would wake up and lie in bed revelling in the smell of clean, fresh sheets. His butler, Mortimer, would bring in his tea, open the blinds and leave Percival to savour his morning cup whilst gazing out at his garden with its profusion of colourful flowers.

After breakfast -- and it was a leisurely breakfast -- Percival would sit out in the garden reading a book, and drinking coffee. At about 11 am, he would be served coffee with a mid-morning snack. Then, if the mood took him, and only if the mood took him, he would stroll down to the office and work a bit. Lunch at noon. followed by a light afternoon nap, followed by tea and sandwiches. Then he would walk down to Bessie's house to pay court to her, returning home for some wine and dinner with friends. Life was comfortable. Life was easy. Percival had nothing to complain about. The skies were blue, the clouds white; nothing obscured the scenery of his days.

Percival was a young pig, rather portly, and with a full head of hair. His face was smooth, his nails well manicured. Soft hands extended to soft, plump arms. He clothes were beautifully tailored and freshly laundered. All in all, he was the picture of a well cultivated young gentleman pig ideally suited to a life of genteel indolence.



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