Aslan is on the move in the land where it is always winter and never Christmas! We have been abused and gaslighted for so long that it seemed like normality, but cracks are rapidly appearing in the edifice that seemed so all-pervasive and invulnerable, and whole chunks are falling off! The dread masters of verbal flim-flam whose whims became law are revealed as ineffective figures of ridicule, strutting and posturing as they are booed off stage. A new act is beginning.
The novel wasn’t about that beastly Algernon Featherstonehaugh III, was it? Dreadful neighbour! They say he kicked cats and fraternized with the French.
Aslan is on the move in the land where it is always winter and never Christmas! We have been abused and gaslighted for so long that it seemed like normality, but cracks are rapidly appearing in the edifice that seemed so all-pervasive and invulnerable, and whole chunks are falling off! The dread masters of verbal flim-flam whose whims became law are revealed as ineffective figures of ridicule, strutting and posturing as they are booed off stage. A new act is beginning.
Indeed!
I once wrote most of a romance novel in which the main character's neighbors were the Throgmortons.
The novel wasn’t about that beastly Algernon Featherstonehaugh III, was it? Dreadful neighbour! They say he kicked cats and fraternized with the French.
Lol No. Though, amusingly enough, my current novel is a Regency fantasy romance about someone named Featherstone.