I thought I'd write here about my long flirtation with poetry.

My parents, who both worked in London when I was a toddler, would leave me in the care of my grandfather, who would attempt to teach me reams of Scott to pass the time. Meet nurse for a poetic child.

When I grew a little older, perhaps five or so, I found a red school exercise book and entitled it "POEMS BY T. T." It contains entries such as:

What a flutter!
What a butter!
...