Surrey Pub in Summer
BY DIANA MORGAN
Under the spreading Chestnut tree Commuters, wearing espadrilles, Each Sunday lunch time down their Pimms.
The sunlight glints on the horn rims And Asprey watches. Someone's wife Sighs : 'Oh the bliss of Country Life!'
(Fast trains Victoria). Some man quotes A rustic saying about oats -- ('Terribly quaint'). Then others vie With quainter sayings about rye.
'Time for lunch, chaps. don't you think?' 'Nonsense—we need another drink.'
Hitching her Harvey Nichols slacks (Much better cut than Mrs. Black's) Mrs. Whyte says she and Pat Have bought a pony for their brat. Now this makes Mrs. Green see pink, And Mr. Green refuses a drink, For everyone here knows, of course, The Status Symbol is a horse !
`Nannie'll be furious—we must fly!' 'Darling, l'm just a wee bit high!'
They wave to the village rustics seated in the Bars And, not completely sober, stroll to their Jaguars With cries of : 'See you later' and : 'Make it Wednesday night,' In a cloud of dust and danger they vanish out of sight.
The simple village rustics, with typical restraint. Say as they down their vodkas 'Aren't London people quaint!'