A House Is Not A Home Until

I Can't Be Expected To Produce Deathless Prose In An Atmosphere Of Gloom And Eucalyptus.

Why Keep In Touch With Them? That's What I Want To Know,' Asked Larry Despairingly. 'what Satisfaction Does It Give You? They're All Either Fossilized Or Mental.' 'indeed, They're Not Mental,' Said Mother Indignantly. 'nonsense, Mother... Look At Aunt Bertha, Keeping Flocks Of Imaginary Cats... And There's Great-uncle Patrick, Who Wanders About Nude And Tells Complete Strangers How He Killed Whales With A Penknife...they're All Bats.

We Stared At The Odd Garment And Wondered What It Was For. 'what Is It?' Asked Larry At Length. 'it's A Bathing Costume, Of Course,' Said Mother. 'what On Earth Did You Think It Was?' 'it Looks Like A Badly Skinned Whale,' Said Larry, Peering At It Closely.

All Over The World The Wildlife That I Write About Is In Grave Danger. It Is Being Exterminated By What We Call The Progress Of Civilization.

Erosion, Desertification, And Pollution Have Become Our Lot. It Is A Weird Form Of Suicide, For We Are Bleeding Our Planet To Death.