A donkey ambled and  rambled whilst the question loitering in corridor of this love alliance’s mind was whatever happened to that newspaper and its sponsor that shortlisted the story or the enterprising  outsider who showcased the play.

This promoter had links to the neighbouring cityscape then disappeared to where?

Never to return?

Over the years Nigel and Nigella scrimped and scraped on casual   work in nondescript schools, shops whose patrons a mere passerby and side of the road skeletal businesses.

They lived on a discount store  though often dreamed about a more opulent lucrative lifestyle but it amazingly  kept eluding them.

“Nigel I love it when you sigh.

At this time in our lives it is worth venerating  the tapestry of it all.”

Nigella with tears welling up in tandem a burst dam release then a surreal quivering smile. 

Nigel always likened his partner’s eyes to an intrusive piercing mirror, an unrelenting ubiquitous focussed lens  from her which had this prolific capacity to skim and skirt both  Nigel’s life which might seem dreary but had covert, concealed, clandestine  little plays in effervescence about what  was an existence that got more sparse with time, a shrinking  hullabaloo  that was surreptitious, hush-hush.