I’m beginning to wish I had a tv just to hear how the BBC pronounces Eyjafjallajoekull. A spontaneous acrostic take on it whilst awaiting flight confirmation or cancellation:
Jonquils on my table will fade before I get to fly.
Ash in the atomsphere atmosphere,
Floating cinders, calx, phlogiston –
Jacob’s ladder and a huge sieve anyone?
Aeroplanes sit popping bubblegum and plaiting each other’s hair.
Let those clouds part!
Limbo cannot be this much like being in limbo.
All that way for this?
Oh well…powerless at long last (again).
Keep smiling and don’t switch the fridge off yet.
Utopia is where the calderas are relics of the past.
Listen to Levon Helm’s Dirt Farmer and Electric Dirt.
Lust after that in-flight meal…