The Penguin Ghost

I don’t know quite how it came to pass that Alec (my boyfriend, whose image the interested reader may gaze upon, if s/he so chooses, by going to my post I is for… Inquest; the portrait labelled Merridew Wavering is me in drag; the portrait labelled The Claimant is Alec, making a horrid face) and I spent a merry evening drawing pictures of suicidal penguins.  I cannot justify it, for it seems, in retrospect, cruel to have derived so much pleasure from the senseless destruction of these noble birds.  All that I can say is that this happened, and that we heartily enjoyed ourselves.  This sort of thing seems to happen a lot, at Atherton Court (which is what we choose to call our unpretentious suburban dwelling, because we go in for Grandness, and let Accuracy go by the board).

Most of the drawings that Alec and I produced in the course of this evening seem to have had merely ephemeral charms.  One, however, continues to appeal to me, and today it occurred to me that it might have appeal for you.

So, here is my portrait of the ghost of a Hanged Penguin:


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