George finds the dark soul of the flower

George took one look at the flowers I bought for Margaret on this, her birthday, and fainted. I remembered at that moment that George had spent some time running a flower shop in the Kalahari. His friend had a particular nose for new markets, George told me. However, just as things were taking off, they were accosted by termites so left for Brighton (UK) where they made a film about keys and other methods of entering the soul. I never asked to see it out of an uneasy feeling I might not like the consequences.

Anyway, Mr Reynold and myself ensured George was fine after a few moments of having his feet in the air. This was of benefit to Mr Reynold who was waiting for George to tell me he was there. Mr Reynold was particularly vexed himself today owing to his new wood, just in, being full of woodworm. Cookie overheard and suggested he put the wood out on a rainy night and wait for the birds to have breakfast. I could see Mr Reynold was distressed by the lack of comprehension on Cookie's part, and he asked if woodworm attacked teeth. I reassured him that there were no larvae to burrow away at his teeth, but plenty of bacteria - should he be consuming sufficient quantities of sugar. Seeing his face become more distraught, I distracted him by telling him about the termites in the Kalahari. Cookie tells me she has a friend who is afraid of termites and other little creatures that invade school time.

Going back to the flowers, Margaret asked if they were suitable for smoking. Slightly alarmed I said she could have a go but I couldn't be held responsible for their effect. Bessy was clearly unimpressed by my cavalier reply and grabbed the flowers from my hand. Margaret sneezed as she often does when personally affronted for some perfectly good reason, and I chased Bessy to the cliff edge. For a moment I wondered if in fact I had misunderstood Bessy's intentions and that she felt the flowers would take her somewhere she'd never been, even to find the key to her soul perhaps. Having doubts myself about the suitability of experimenting with one's soul at the edge of a cliff I made a lunge for the hound.

Bessy remains with us this afternoon, though not due to my efforts but the passing offer of a male escort of the four legged sort, and the beautiful flowers have journeyed out into the charm that is the English Channel. George may have known more than me when he saw them this morning. Perhaps he had seen into their souls and decided this was the only end open to them despite my intention that they should bring my wife happiness. What a responsibility that is for George to carry.