A little taster here of the book i mentioned to you on Twitter. I know you're a busy guy and the Ashes is at a crucial juncture but i've been trying for 15 years to get this off the ground for my Dad and all I ever get is people asking me for money!! anyhow, see what u think....
Even Daisy appeared to be making the most of the lull. She was by the side of the pond appearing to be trying to talk to one of the tadpoles. As she leaned over the side of the pond she attracted the attention of a fine looking youngster with a most impressive tail. She rolled her large eyes at the tadpole and crooned:
When you grow up you’ll be a frog, and hop from place to place.”
Daisy was quite amazed when the tadpole replied: “Oh, I thought I’d be a dace.
For one so old and wise as you, I’m surprise you’ve not observed.
I’m a fish! I swim in water, my place in life reserved!”
The cow, outwardly unruffled, just regurgitated cud.
She closed an eye and chewed a bit then spat out a piece of wood.
The missile darted at our friend who shot behind a weed.
"Ah, a weed, a rose, a gardener’s dream, did these things come from seed?”
The cow acknowledged this was true, and closed her other eye,
then swished her tail with marked success, demolishing a fly.
"And you, at a very tender age, were you not a calf?
But me a fish, a baby frog, you really make me laugh.”
The cow twitched and flicked an ear with one eye open now.
Looked long and hard and thought, oh dear! We’re going to have a row.
“Now listen hear you little squirt, I’ve seen it all before.
Just wiggle your tail and wiggle off, you really are a bore.”
The tadpole thought on this a bit, then mimicked, “Wiggle your tail,
I’d find it easier to believe had you labeled me a whale.
A whale at least has got a tail, a frog for sure has not.
I know I’m small, but I can see that water is my lot.”
"You lose your tail and grow your legs, then hop out here with me.”
“You sure I don’t grow wings as well, and live in that oak tree?”
The cow mused on this a while, and had to smile a bit.
She lowered her head and smiled again, then drank the little wit.
She ambled off to scratch her back upon the proud elm log.
Cross, that the tadpole had been right, and never made a frog.
Not really relevant to the story but a lovely sample f te style... thanks if you had the time to read. Roy.