There Is No First World

By Neglecting Our Garden, We Are Storing Up For Ourselves, In The Not Very Distant Future, A World Catastrophe As Bad As Any Atomic War, And We Are Doing It With All The Bland Complacency Of An Idiot Child Chopping Up A Rembrandt With A Pair Of Scissors.

I Can't Be Expected To Produce Deathless Prose In An Atmosphere Of Gloom And Eucalyptus.

All Over The World The Wildlife That I Write About Is In Grave Danger. It Is Being Exterminated By What We Call The Progress Of Civilization.

Tea Would Arrive, The Cakes Squatting On Cushions Of Cream, Toast In A Melting Shawl Of Butter, Cups Agleam And A Faint Wisp Of Steam Rising From The Teapot Shawl.

We Stared At The Odd Garment And Wondered What It Was For. 'what Is It?' Asked Larry At Length. 'it's A Bathing Costume, Of Course,' Said Mother. 'what On Earth Did You Think It Was?' 'it Looks Like A Badly Skinned Whale,' Said Larry, Peering At It Closely.