I awoke to what I expected to be another day in Tartarus, and when I say that I’m being depressingly literal, unlike many when they are simply referring to another day of work. What I wasn’t expecting was to find myself in the middle of an orchard, lying down, looking at the sky, apparently well rested and not surrounded by the smell of burning sulphur for the first time in just over a year. There were even birds singing in the early morning sunlight and the apples hanging from the trees dropped slightly scented and refreshing dew onto my body. The trees even dappled the sunlight to prevent it from blinding me. All in all it was what even I could describe as an idyllic morning.

And I hated every moment of it.

Some ponies say that's not a great way to start my memoirs, but it is the most truthful. So that's where we'll start.