Good King Wenceslas looked out
on the feast of Stephen,
when the snow lay round about,
deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night,
though the frost was cruel,
when a poor man came in sight,
gathering winter fuel.
I am advised that the RSPB (Royal Society for Promotion of Bloggers) insists on snowy scenes so this post is to make me compliant with their Code of Practice.
The poor man gathering winter fuel was recruited from Central Casting. He has lived in the street longer than me and has a distinguished Wiki entry. What is omitted is his speciality: imitating talking, squawking parrots. He still receives Royalties from a turn on The Avengers and, in another show, got a telling off for squawking dirty.
This post is a bisque as there’s not much temptation to go out when it’s snowing but, hark, listen to the rhythm of the rain.