Monday morning, 7 a.m. (+90 seconds): doorbell chimes, kitchen units and electricals delivered. Had been promised for delivery at 7 a.m. German inefficiency?
Spent much of Sunday emulsioning the ceiling and the walls for the fitters to arrive today. Ten litres of brilliant white applied with long-handled roller.
— the officially-approved punchline to #492 in the Old Farts’ Bad Joke Listing.
In point-of-fact I do like Kipling. Long-handled roller in hand and nine-foot ceiling above, the brain went into Kiple-mode.
For those strict four-emphases to the line seem to match the to-and-fro rhythm of the rolling very nicely:
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Sixteen strokes: time to reload the roller.
No link, obviously, between that memory and the Lady in My Life, denied her kitchen, but doing her best with a single electric ring and a slow-cooker.
Now convince me having verse by heart is a pointless exercise.