David’s posterous

"We don't deplore your inability to read Old Icelandic; we regret your
unwillingness to try."

Jack and Jill went to the mill
To fetch a pickled herring
Jill picked out a kippered sprat
Which Jack declared quite daring
 
They ate the fish with jellied eel
In Cumberland tradition
Jill dusted them with barley meal
A strengthening addition
 
Jack and Jill went to the still
To fetch a tot of rye
They toasted with the best of will:
'Here's mud in someone's eye'
 
At five-to-two they both returned
Full from their fishy luncheon
Jill put on her badge and boots
And Jack strapped on his truncheon
 
Back on the beat, in bobby's hats
They kept the peace till after five
Inspected licenses for spats
And confiscated knives
 
Jack, at six, on roundabout
Smoothed traffic in the rotary
Jill took in a lager lout
And nabbed a priest for forgery
 
In civvies just past 8.05
From Stationhouse by bus
With sworn-to-serve prerogative
They fined a bloke who cussed
 
Hopping off at Princess Park
On Jack's impulsive wishing:
'Let's please stay out till after dark
And test our luck at fishing'
 
To try their hand with rod and creel
They took a skiff out on the lake
Jill soon caught a winsome "trout"
That turned out to be a hake
 
At home by 10 they cooked filets
By brazier in the back
Light brown for one; the other singed
Until it was quite black
 
Jack and Jill ate up their fill
Washed down with pints of ale
Jack performed the washing up
And Jill went through the mail
 
Jack and Jill, abed, were still
And sated by their hearty fare
Jill dreamt of whitebait from the kill
And Jack of an éclair

I visited Rainham Marshes in Essex yesterday. Lots of baby coots,
several baby moorhens, and at least one baby little grebe were in
evidence. Arthropods beware!

Since you can't have sliced bread without surface tension (no way for the nice gluten matrix to form), it can be proven that surface tension must be an ancestor Great Thing. 

and his musical robot desktop doggie has been listening to podcasts about swine flu.