I have posted this poem before, but it is so truly dreadful that it deserves repeating:

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled
And the silk inside a chestnut shell
Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled
All these things I love so well

So I mustn't forget
No I mustn't forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn't forget

Clouds that look like familiar faces
And the somethings turning in the sky
Shoes so comfy that they're worn out and they're battered
And the taste of apple pie

So I mustn't forget
No I mustn't forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn't forget

It is Monday morning here in Bristol. Poggle is getting dressed. Today she has blue eyes. Yesterday they were green. Poggle doesn't like getting dressed very much. She doesn't like putting her cardigan on. Poggle has just visited. She is wearing cute dungarees.

I could go on about the Poggle for some time (it is our main topic of conversation) but I suspect that it would be a little dull, even by the standards of this blog.

I saw Mrs Edwards yesterday. We drove over to Ludlow. Very pleasant.