One day, when I wandered up to the plot to fetch some spuds and onions, I got more than I bargained for.
As I entered, the feral queen shot out of the potting shed (punctuation is a wonderful thing), leaving these little princesses and princes behind, snug and warm on top of my stored veges.
I went to the shop and bought what I needed, but not until I had taken this shot.
They moved out a week or so later, who knows where?
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