Story told by the author – critically ill in early childhood – and his adventures with the fanciful Junior Angel Muddleduck who rescued him from his sickbed to go on wonderful fanciful journeys.
Years ago, when Christmas was still Christmas, and I was just a wee boy stuck in my room in the attic because of the asthma, and everything else that was wrong with me, I had many visitors during the day that brought me meals and drinks and warm loving hand that took my temperature and tucked me into bed, but only one visitor at night that made my head spin.
Junior Angel Muddleduck was not your more conventional little fellow, inordinately proud of the extra inch in height that allowed him to lord it over other junior angels and for rhyme, he claimed to wear a battered crown. He wore coat and hat, vernal green in a way no longer seen, and had shamrocks in his sleeves and in every wrinkle of his face a twinkle that put you at ease. But I was scared. ‘Because I see you, does…
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