Atomic Tubfish

My mind was working overtime – it was coming up with all sorts of interesting stuff! It was excelling itself. ‘Atomic tubfish,’ it said, then – after a long and thoughtful gap – it followed this up with ‘finite diadem’. My mind said nothing for a very long time after this and I thought that it had probably run out of steam. I had just about given up on it. Then, just as I came to the conclusion that I probably wouldn’t hear any more out of it for the rest of the day, it shouted out ‘numeration system ripping fiefdom gymslip self-balancing pummel rabbit bumble-badger safe house gooney-hanger batty-rider planetary fuel-pod morphology forbidden city…’ Well that was a mouthful, I had to admit. There was a lot there to be thinking about and no mistake. A lot to mull over, a lot to take away and carefully analyse at some future point in time. Perhaps over a nice cup of tea. Morphology was a great word it occurred to me – a very meaty word, one that you could chew over at leisure and get lots of rich savoury juices out of. Fabulous stuff altogether. Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous… It was well worth the wait. That old mind of mine had certainly come up with the goods this time, I told myself. It certainly had! It had done the business and no mistake. I must say I was delighted. I walked off briskly down the road and made my way to the ‘Kettle of Fish’ fish and chip shop in Gort High Street and I ordered myself a large portion of battered Oarfish with apricots, mangoes and a basket of pickled sprats with a side helping of oeil de boeuf. Brain-food of the very best kind! I could hardly wait to get stuck in. Boy was this going to be good!








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