Those of you following this little rascal will know that he’s taken a liking to Queen Victoria. (Don’t ask me why, perhaps he sees something of himself in her.)
Guess who we found in Royal Leamington Spa? Guess who put the ‘Royal’ into Leamington Spa in 1838?
He wanted me to set up an elaborate pulley system whereby I could haul him up to sit at her feet but since that would have meant lassoing HRH I decided against it and balanced him on the lower ledges of her plinth. (Actually, he did take a tumble into the flower bed before this photo was taken – the breeze caught him – but he was as stoic as his idol and gamely took his place again.)
I will now dedicate my time to finding an accessible foot-sitting statue for him.
In the meantime Sir Porridge, Baronet, will have to content himself with other representatives of HRH such as the ‘post office’ (see Postal Porridge) and the nearby Queen Victoria pub which performs another kind of service for her subjects.
The World is My Cuttlefish 