I had such a strange experience yesterday. I was out walking and I saw Betty Bras. I went up to her to see whether she knew anything about my lost beard, and I saw she was wearing it. And not only that, this was all she was wearing. It was draped round her like the hair of Botticelli's Venus, the one who's standing in a seashell that everyone raves about.
Well, what could I do? Perhaps you readers have the answer. I mean I could hardly have asked for the beard back, could I. She'd have been ... well, totally exposed to the elements. But at the same time it didn't seem right that she wore my beard like that, and it must have been terribly ticklish. I was nonplussed. I just didn't know what to do.
In the end I decided to ask her to return the beard in the post when she'd finished with it. But she just laughed at me and said it suited her too well to let me have it back.
Now I'm sitting by my typewriter trying to concentrate on The Early Development of the Phoenician Alphabet. But all the time this beard-borrowing Botticelli babe comes floating through the mist and hovers in front of the keys. I think I'll drink some cocoa and have an early night. Then maybe she'll go away. La di DA!