A Sticky Wicket, What?

Rob, whom I know from the intrepid “UK Phalanx” of the International Chemical Business Press Junket, came by and commented on my poem, Ashes, yesterday. The poem is about reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, which describes a trek through a torched, post-Apocalypse landscape. Rob, however, assumed I was taking on a far more dreadful situation now gripping Britain. We stiffen our upper lip in sympathy.

This will, however, give me an ice-breaker with the Australian receptionist at Tectura next time I see her in the elevator.