a wry reminiscence
Picture it.
A younger looking version of Doctor Barn is chatting to the Dad.
They are at the wedding of my cousin Frances to her paramour Philip.
The Dad produces some of the wedding literature and directs Doctor B's attention to the back page.
And lo.
There in plain view is a poem entitled Eve Of The War.
The poem, a cheerful little ditty, features a special guest appearance from Franny and Pip, and so they have decided to print it on their stationery.
"Who the hell wrote that thing?" mutters the Dad with diplomatic asperity.
"Your son James," shoots back Doctor Barn.
And there our story ends.
A younger looking version of Doctor Barn is chatting to the Dad.
They are at the wedding of my cousin Frances to her paramour Philip.
The Dad produces some of the wedding literature and directs Doctor B's attention to the back page.
And lo.
There in plain view is a poem entitled Eve Of The War.
The poem, a cheerful little ditty, features a special guest appearance from Franny and Pip, and so they have decided to print it on their stationery.
"Who the hell wrote that thing?" mutters the Dad with diplomatic asperity.
"Your son James," shoots back Doctor Barn.
And there our story ends.
posted by heelers | 4:40 AM
1 Comments:
Ahhhhhhhh...NOW I understand. Kinda.
Did you know that all words in the English language (genuflect)that begin with wr with the (possible) exception of 'wren' have a connotation is twisting and pulling (torsion). 'Wren' may obey the rule because of the way they twist and pull snails out of their shells to eat. Sometimes it's an emotional torsion, such as 'wretch'.
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