Met Aunt Bench In Town – This Was The Conversation

A portal into the world of my poetry that takes it's inspiration from total rubbish. I work in the dark, down a hole, in a hedge. These works are written from my base in the Cornish county of Trebollocks, where I also make clothes from fly-paper. Journal entries, usually concerning bizarre family matters. Poems, some tortoisy, some not - it depends what day of the week it is. But it's never about windmills or ghosts, that I can tell you. I am a Shrieking Tutor teach Advanced Hiding Skills at Trebollocks College, I studied tortoise flinging at Nempnett Thrubwell Academy of Reptile Propulsion. I am old. I am warty. I have a beard like a dandelion clock. I have two toads, some spiders, and a bat. My sister is terrified of satsumas. A trumpet's as good as a wig to a blind owl in a coracle. Born on 1 April 1905 My brain hurts. View all posts by Mad Aunt Bernard