Pert as a school-girl well can be
Filled to the brim with girlish glee
Three little maids from school
I have two friends from my schooldays, and it’s a bit of a miracle. We scattered when 16, did stuff, went places, stuff happened. Years passed. Whole decades elapsed.
The fact that we’re still in touch is largely the result of the gentle concern (dogged determination?) of one of us. We now lie along a line between Yorkshire, London and Brittany.
One of us may be a sad-minded pedant, but almost undoubtedly isn’t. One of us definitely writes brilliant poetry. Another might. Two of us certainly have dogs. And now, all three of us have blogs. How fantastically cool is that? It’s the first time I’ve had the blogging thing working in reverse, meat-spacers coming online as it were.
So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, please meet the fellow perts:
Tall Girl of Smoke and Ash
Lucy of Box Elder
(I resisted the temptation to refer to another famous female trinity
Thunder and lightning.
Enter three WITCHES.
When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
That will be ere the set of sun.
They probably didn’t go to school together.)