Cheer up. Doctor’s orders


Journalists usually spend a lot of time meeting people but, in current circumstances, face to face encounters have been replaced by emails – which have turned into a torrent – and which often means I lose things because they have been overtaken by, and buried in, more and more emails.

So apologies to all those who wonder why their story or suggestion has not appeared (yet).

One victim was Dr Andrew Bamji, whose emails have been resuscitated at last. So … wait for it. It’s poetic.

“A cheerleader from Arizona
Was sadly laid low by Corona
Said her date “I can wait”
“She must self-isolate”
But I rate her
So later I’ll phone her.”

That reminded me of my last holiday with my “ex” some years after we “exxed” [don’t ask, the story takes too long] and she was doing an Open University course on poetry and I was frequently asked what word might fit in her latest effort as I gazed out on one of the tiniest islands in The Canaries. But back to Andrew as he has another bit of poetry on offer.

Othello contracted Corona
(He’s from Venice, you know, not Verona)
The Doge’s lot muzzled him.
The shrieks and wails puzzled him
Till Iago said “Look! Dere’s de Moanah”.

Image Credits: Winchelsea 2nd Wednesday Society .

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