The plunging of joy vs the joy of plunging

Our honge tree is laughing!

Having got that off my chest: I’ve talked, ad nauseum, about the joy of the outdoor life. But for the last two months, various things have kept me from the farm — except for an occasional short dash, which doesn’t count. I’m not one of those brilliant people who can create high drama or comedy out of mundane detail, so I’ll spare you an account of my domestic doings. Instead, I’ll share this clerihew* about the plunger that saved my day.

Brave plunger, you can be relied upon —
Two gurgles, and the water’s gone!
Of other joys we must beware:
Soaring and plunging like an unruly bear.

I hope we’ll soon get back to our idyll, and resume this farm blog. Meanwhile, dear readers, get yourself a plunger – the most useful gadget invented since the drain.

* A clerihew is a silly poem with the rhyming scheme aabb. The subject of the poem has to be named in the opening line. EC Bentley, who invented them, had some really good ones, miles better than the one book of his I’ve read, Trent’s Last Case. Here’s one: Sir Christopher Wren
Said, “I am going to dine with some men.
If anyone calls
Say I am designing St. Paul’s.

Try it yourself, it’s such fun! For the perpetrator, at least.


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