Rufus sat on the low garden wall with his back to the house, and kicked his trainered heels against it in a steady rhythm.

Having risen so early, by eleven o'clock I begin to feel tired, and generally enjoy a sound sleep on the cushions under the fig-tree; the caïquejees slumbering profoundly meanwhile in the 'Edith Belina', and my tiny guard Johannachi either discussing melons and figs, or playing in the garden with the old man's dogs...

We scavenged a couple of old beer cans for our art project.

It was like a bitch alleycat in estrus strutting high-tailed past a fenceful of toms.