Pam

Pam has a phenomenal thirst. She has been drinking like a woman possessed for the last year as she rids the Dower house patio of rainwater.

She has an iron constitution and is not averse to swallowing any dust and leaves which come her way. She has hidden depths which are never plumbed and only sighted under certain conditions.

Pam is also eager to swallow valuables like keys and jewellery and small toys let fall by careless children. She demands that we, her owners, treat her with great respect and give her a wide berth.

She is a modern day Miss, with a small sturdy but compact body, and turns up her nose at the big old codgers designed a century ago with their wide bars and concave faces, now languishing in the gutters.
She likes her name, considers herself fortunate with her tattoo stamps, and thinks the wet look really suits her.

All in all, she considers herself to be a draining sophisticate, but I wonder if she will continue to work for as long as have the old Edinburgh sievers.