my Commonplace Book.


"Said a rat to a hen once, at Datchett,
'Throw an egg to me, dear, and I'll catch it!'
'I thank you, good sir,
But I greatly prefer
To sit on mine HERE till I hatch it.'"

"Few hairs had the Vicar of Medmenham,
Few hairs, and he still was a-sheddin' 'em,
But had none remained,
He would not have complained,
Because there was FAR too much red in 'em!"


It was Jack Copley, too, who incited me to play with rhymes for
Venice until I produced the following tour de force:


"A giddy young hostess in Venice
Gave her guests hard-boiled eggs to play tennis.
She said 'If they SHOULD break,
What odds would it make?
You can't THINK how prolific my hen is."


Reminiscences of former difficulties bravely surmounted faded into
insignificance before our first day in Wales was over.