Dear Foxy,

Sorry to hear about your rotten MD and all. Hope the
investigations go well with minimal discomfort and no
notable results.

I thought while you're on a miserable restricted diet
and all that a little bit of humour or music or something
around the topic might alleviate any anxiety. So, here
we go:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uPu1dRRfTY&feature=related

Not quite the same thing but in the same general direction. (Suzie might get a giggle out of this one)-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBPSSQFwNJ0

How about some butt jokes? Like ask your doc to check for an echo or uhm ... something.

Hope this isn't too off colour for you. I'll be thinking of you and
yes - race on to Tuesday.

All the best,

pynch

Quick procedure, best of wishes for Tuesday Foxy [just dont make the Specialist laugh with your beautiful humour or the camera may not travel along its specified path]!

Foxy,
Not quite a poem as it doesn't rhyme.
Nevertheless:

So you must not be frightened
if a sadness rises up before you
larger than any you have ever seen;
if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows,
passes over your hands and over all you do.
You must remember that something is happening to you,
that life has not forgotten you
that it holds you in its hands,
and will not let you fall.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Foxy,
Like Belly I love Australiana,as my namesake implies, but many authors of balleds and stories.

This is a favourite that some here may not have read.

GROUNDS FOR DIVORCE? Sandy Thorne

Took the plunge'n clapped the hobbles on a sheila from inside
Her head was kind, her pedigree was good
Shes coped with dust, flies'n heatwaves, taken bad times in her stride
But I just can't stand to watch her chopping wood!

She can whack a feed together out of salt beef, spuds'n rice
In an old campoven out on the droving tracks
And neatly roll a swag--set a camp up in a trice
But strike me roan, shes hopeless with an axe!

She'll run and block bad cattle, when I really need a hand
Only measures five foot two, but she's got guts
Scruffing year old mickeys, while I put on the brand
But that woman can't chop wood for bloody nuts!

I've tried every way to teach her, that vital female chore
Even splashed out on a brand-new five pound Plumb
Now I ask you, fair dinkum--could a bloke do anymore?
But she'll never learn to chop wood like me mum

Foxy,
My experience with the colonoscopy was the same, the cleaning out part was the worst. The nurses were good and joked with us all waiting to get done. I said after, Doc would you sign a statement to my wife saying that my brains are not there.

I have never been so hungry in all my life. How long does it take to die from stavation?

Next visit to Doc he said all was clear and I would not need another for 12 months. I said, news for you Doc, thats the first and last.

Good luck

Yea Foxy, topic's neat:

"... The bugler sounds, the drummer sounds his beat
bright swords refurbished tilt to marching feet...."

see here: http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?discussion=3130#73906
and read-slash-view the links.
It all might give one cause to think.

But then a tragic error, not effete:

"The pen[s] in great tragedienne lines extol
the meritorius lie, the grand excuse ..."

Foxy, the pens were plural! Can just one pen
have done such harm?
Quelle domage! Defeat.

I now retire, poetically, evocatively, replete.



But now to answer your double-barrelled question, Foxy: How about:

"Kanzo Makame. The Diver.
Sturdy and small Japanee.
Seeker of pearl, and of pearl shell,
down in the depths of the sea. ..."

One of Banjo's. Written in 1902.

Because it shows how far-sighted Banjo was, and what an observer.


Foxy,
You wouldn't chance to have more Gilbert, too?
You know, that other one.
'Kiackatoo'