Tammy wore her tam-o’-shanter at a tilt as she tramped along the Thames toward the Tower, humming tidbits from Tannhauser.
She’d thrown a tantrum at ten when Tom taunted her tardiness, called her a tart, poured sauce tartare over her taut tights, and tore off to a tavern.
“It was terrible tomfoolery,” she growled to her terrier Topper, who thumped his tail on the turf. “He’s a trial.”
It was touch and go for Tammy till twelve. Then she saw a trainload of toboggan teams from Tyrol, turned her toes toward the tube and texted her titillating tuba teacher Tyrone.
At three-thirty, it was time to tarry over tea.
Then it was back to the Thames, for a temperamental trot over the Tower Bridge.