I mentioned last week that I was waiting for my daffodils, they have finally arrived and as such I have agreed to release all my hostages. As the weather has now turned I will be sending Billy Hayes the bill for a new pair of silk trousers, I would encourage anyone in similar situation to do the same (link).
Britain is in the postmans death-grip, the royal mail is on strike! business has ground to a halt and lives shall surely be lost. I personally am waiting for a bag of Narcissus ‘Golden Harvest’ ordered weeks ago. No doubt they are busily sprouting in some dark and humid sorting office, warmed by the slow composting of 100,000 bills and birthday cards. To amuse myself while I sit motionless in the hallway, I have started writing poetry. I call this Poem daffodils.
I pondered lonely but out loud
Why through my door came only bills,
When I had ordered, I avowed
A sack, of sodding daffodils;
Now screw the lake, and blow the trees,
I want my trumpet flowers please.*
If anyone high up in whatever union the postmen are in is reading this, could you please get your mates to go back to work. If I don’t receive my bulbs by the end of the week I shall lead all the worlds garden bloggers in counter strike, and no one will ever know how to make leaf mould or what garden tasks need doing in November!
*With fondest apologies W. Wordsworth.