Its time for something a little lighter, so I'm thinking of a poem I wrote when I was in my teens. I'm awful at poetry, so I really should inflict some on you. Brace yourself: barf bags at the ready! Here goes!
Filbert was a carpenter,
A man of some renown
He had a little corner shop
On the quiet side of town
One day, a block of solid teak
Sprouted legs and grew beak
Down it jumped from the storage shelf
Did a dance and shook itself
Imagine Filbert's great surprise
When it appeared before his eyes!
Then: 'Filbert!' it cried with a voice like a lash
'I want to know where you keep your cash!'
It grabbed up the safe and snaffled the key
And was off down the road just as fast as could be
The teak block ran as fast as it could
And soon you could smell the burning of wood
Filbert could see how before it got far
The teak was just a smear of ash on the tar.
And there is a moral in all this my sons:
If you're a blockhead, don't pull any fast ones!
Voila! Ridculosity rules!
More flowers - I haven't had time to do any non-work-related photography what with seven day work and suchlike.