Friday, 19 October 2012
Catching up with the poet
'But Cyril says he's not sure now who he sold it to so there's little chance of Captain Bill getting it back,' said Norma.
'It's only a piece of furniture,' replied Horace, 'it's not as if it were a poem or anything.'
'I thought you might say something like that,' said Norma. 'So...as we're now talking about poetry, how's it going?'
'It's OK,' replied Horace.
'And Queen Phoebe?'
'We argued for a while over finding something to rhyme with dead. She suggested brown bread but it really didn't fit the mood of the work.'
'Hmm,' replied Norma, 'I can see where you're coming from.'
'The problem is she's very used to getting her own way.'
'I suppose when you're a queen it must get like that?'
'In the end we decided that we'd produce two different versions.'
'Well compromise is best if you cam manage it,' replied Norma.
'And then she started to get a little restless so I said I'd come up and see how you were getting on.'
'It's really just the usual round of us, a pirate jamboree and a chance encounter with an undercover elephant.' replied Norma.
'Hmm,' mused Horace, 'I wonder....'
'I'm sure you'll find a poem in it somewhere,' replied Norma. 'Now I think it would be a good idea if you hurried on back to the ship before Queen Phoebe misses you too much.'
'Actually,' said Horace, '...she's not there.'
'What!' mooed Norma.
'It's like I said,' replied Horace. 'She's so very used to getting her own way and when I suggested coming to see you she decided to come as well.'
'So where exactly is she now?' asked Norma.
'Erm?' replied Horace. 'Not sure really!'