During the Napoleonic wars
Britain was isolated
from mainland Europe:
people became collectors
of seaweed and root vegetables,
and this tradition seems to have continued
well beyond the scope
of that need. Laver bread, sea kale, black
salsify are just examples of near- inedibles
that could feed the starved
in a time of dearth. Back then,
that kind of knack for tasteless hope could be excused.
But what a palaver now to insist that it still be of use.

On another matter, you teach, you would not
spell "lose" "loose",
but I wouldn't put past you the belief
that the Barnacle Goose
was born from a mussel on the beach, such
is your virginity in all matters
exact (microbiology, anatomy or humanist
church- going are examples), not to mention
any fact to do with movement in space, or with the sense
of what makes one handsome and what does not.

Not that it matters much. Much to my chagrin
the Key of Joy may be the sin of disobedience, but
I'll stick with the dates for my diary,
with the compere on the show, as I want his
company, companionship, comradeship
beyond compare. Like in the old days,
this is a case of
kelp for ash, and cash for kelp.
One helps oneself to what is in one's dish.
One learns to relish help when one is famished.

The funny thing is though, all considered:
I am continental. I can shop. I know better.
From now on I vow to reintroduce
some of the good produce, stop being a schlepper.