What Fools We Are, Eh?

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

Right In The Hart Of The Africn Jungel A Small Wite Man Lives. Now There Is One Extraordinary Fact About Him That He Is The Frind Of All Animals.

In Conservation, The Motto Should Always Be 'never Say Die'.

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.

Each Day Had A Tranquility A Timelessness About It So That You Wished It Would Never End. But Then The Dark Skin Of The Night Would Peel Off And There Would Be A Fresh Day Waiting For Us Glossy And Colorful As A Child's Transfer And With The Same Tinge Of Unreality.