The manor is cramped and Catherine’s husband often stumbles on the strategically placed furniture. He doesn’t like anyone, and unhappily isn’t interested in any of the provided activities.
He complains he can’t even fart in private; not that it mattered before. But he’s extremely gassy and when he dies two months later at 77, Catherine believes she should have known.
It is said he had a good run even if he wasn’t a ripe old age.
Riper than you would believe. Catherine collapses in laughter that leaves her wiping her eyes.
If the end can be smelled…she sniffs the air.