It didn’t rain today. Instead, the whole area became one dirty great waterfall. One needed an above-cloud-level snorkel to breathe.
Tomorrow will be the fifty-first anniversary of our official engagement. The bash coincided with Much Better Half’s twenty-first birthday. Today is the forty-ninth anniversary of our wedding.
Yes, a two-year engagement was a bit extended, even for that era. As I have blogged before, we had planned on going to UK for a while but resolved to get married instead. The decision saved our lives. The flight we had been booked on crashed, and there were no survivors
Anyway, MBH is as mad as a snake that she has managed to get an abscessed tooth and a nasty bout of shingles all at the same time. Some of the medication is not supposed to be accompanied by consumption of alcohol whereas such consumption is regarded by us as a vital part of such anniversaries. Fortunately, she has investigated the particular medicine concerned and has discovered that it is not a vital part of the treatment. Therefore it has been dumped, and will be replaced by an appropriate number of suitably chilled glasses of wine.
Such time as I have had towards stringing words together over the past few days had to be devoted to a slot I promised to the Garden Judges’ newsletter. However, it will also do as a Really Awful Rhyme.
SAUCE FOR GOOSE
‘Judge not, lest …’ is often stated
As a warning, dire,
For it is anticipated
Those who might aspire
To indulge in any judging
Should accept, in turn,
They should not do any grudging
If the same they earn!
When I pick out imperfections
In the gardens judged,
I forget the sad directions
Where my own is fudged!
‘There’s a weed!’ I point, condemning;
It is only one
From which my contempt is stemming –
Mine is overrun!
‘Straggly shrub could use some trimming,’
But see mine, with straggles brimming –
I’ve a jungle there!
So, if I should base points given
On my own estate,
To full marks I would be driven –
Though our judges, for the most part
© November 2012 Colonialist (WordPress/blogs24)
Have some gardens fine,
I have yet to make my boast start;
Just don’t look at mine!
Hope my garden, every judgee,
Will not ever see –
They would squawk just like a budgie,