Tamara de Lempicka The Green Turban

Tamara de Lempicka The Green TurbanTamara de Lempicka SummerTamara de Lempicka Saint MoritzTamara de Lempicka PrintempsTamara de Lempicka Portrait of Ira
It was years and years ago. There was this ole bloke in Ankh who snuffed it, and he belonged to one of them religions where they bury you after you’re dead, an’, they did, and he had this ole dog-’
‘–called Gaspode–?’
‘Yeah, and this ole dog had been his only companion and after they buried the man he lay down on his grave and howled ‘Not really. I b’lieve any bloody dog will stay still an’ howl when you’ve just lowered the gravestone on his tail,’ said Gaspode.
There was a ferocious barking.
‘Don’t worry about it. He’s probably found a threatening rock or something,’ said Gaspode.
He’d found Ginger.
and howled for a couple of weeks. Growled at everybody who came near. An’ then died.’ Victor paused in the act of throwing the stick again. ‘That’s very sad,’ he said. He threw. Laddie tore along underneath it, and disappeared into a stand of scrubby trees on the hillside. ‘Yeah. Everyone says it demonstrates a dog’s innocent and undyin’ love for ‘is master,’ said Gaspode, spitting the words out as if they were ashes. ‘You don’t believe that, then?’