What better way to celebrate then, than to go to a series of meetings where people crow like they've just been woken up by the dawn and want to blame everybody around the table for it!
I sit there drawing trees, and boxes, and (weirdly) Cartoon Abraham Lincoln in my notebook.
There's a story around Chinese New Year about an old man who frightened off a dragon with red paper and fireworks. The dragon stayed away. The villagers assumed that the dragon was afraid of red paper and fireworks so they did it every year, teaching their children and their children's children to do the same. As far as I know, China is still successfully dragon-free.
True enough, our very own Tower of London is still standing for the same traditional reason: the Beefeaters clip the wings of the ravens quite deliberately, so that the walls of our most famous Tudor prison don't cave in. Because obviously, the presence of disabled ravens is the only thing preventing the imminent collapse of one of our oldest tourist attractions.
Time for another daft poem then. Oh I do love the way words fit together! This is Noodles.
Noodles
I like noodles
And poodles
And doodles
But oodles
of noodles
And troodles
Of poodles
And yoodles
Of doodles
Is a bit much
I wonder whether I could wave red paper and set off firecrackers in my next meeting? Would it head-off trouble, or would it bring it my way?
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