Meet Febreze the Gnome. He's kinda shifty looking and smells to high heaven, but he proudly serves as our flat's bedraggled mascot.He doesn't really smell anymore -- that's how he got the name Febreze. A thorough dousing with the magical odor remover banished years of bar stench from our little friend. The hubby won him in a pub raffle, you see. I can't say for certain why The Retreat wanted to get rid of what looks like an item handmade by a patron long ago which probably sat in the bar for countless years, but when you look into Febreze's shifty eyes you do wonder what he gets up to when no one's around...
If only he could talk, I'm sure he'd be quite the raconteur. Years of scenes in the life of a small English pub would spill from his little knit lips. It'd be like Eastenders: Reading (especially suitable because the pub makes its home in east Reading). I'd have parties and we'd all sit, Guinness in hand (or perhaps some fruity vodka drink for me), and listen to his scandalous tales. And then we'd freak out because an inanimate freakin' gnome was talking. Wouldn't that be awesome?
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