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About Leeds

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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Trying to find info on this Gentleman. “Thomas H. Anstey “ F.A.A. Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm. I found the address on the Cunard Line Decal.

I head over to the park near the Anstey Village Hall. Maybe they’re chillin’ with the ducks or something. Nope. Just a bunch of kids playing footy. I’m like, “Oi! Have you seen my sheep?” They just laugh and kick the ball at me. Rude, right?

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