I remarked to my spouse this morning that he felt very warm. ‘That’s what Holly keeps telling me,’ he said. We recalled that when she was a baby he used to offer her a kiss and she would say, ‘No, you are wet!’
‘So,’ I said, ‘you’ve gone from wet to warm.’
‘I’m working my way through the vowels,’ he said. ‘Eventually I’ll be worm.’
‘So will we all,’ I replied.
And how true. This reminded me of the line of John Donne’s:
Then worms shall try
that long-preserved virginity.
In other words, sleep with me now or you’ll soon be dead.
I see Rupert Murdoch lives to fight another day. One wonders how soon he, too, will be worm. Oh, wait – he already is… though wet and warm he will never be.
Tomatoes today followed by (I hope) Holly’s bake sale, though that remains to be seen, since her friend had a hissy fit yesterday in the middle of baking and her mum (very unwisely, in my view) told Holly and Beth to go home. Not good, especially after all the work Holly’s put into making leaflets – and after the donations we’ve already received. Bad judgement.
And then I don’t know what. Was going to meet Peter but that will not now happen.
Kirk out
Sarada Gray 