The former is, for what it's worth, the funniest thing that's ever happened ...
LLANFAIR CAEREINION
The llaugh that llasted … shared hysteria, half
Delayed to minutes after we creep past
The window of the farmhouse, on the path
To where we’ll tooth-brush. He is framed and cast
As hero of his own unprivate show.
We share our double takes, purse lips, bite tongues
‘Til certain we are out of earshot, blow
Our tops and roar each last laugh from our lungs.
Two decades slip and slide away, I’ve kept
No contact with those boys I shared that shock
Of shallow joy with, but the memory crept
Up, now … the laugh, I mean, no, not the … other thing.
But, men, I have this one word to give you
Peace be with you, and, yes, also with you.
FLORENCE
An Englishman, in any circumstance
must be unflustered, dignified and droll.
Whatever he’d not realised in advance,
He should emerge as one born to the role.
In forty-one degrees of Tuscan heat
His morning suit should linger on his back
Until he’s told the groom’s tasks are complete –
And never should his wry composure crack.
An English wedding knows no better site -
A villa overlooking Florence fair.
What better time than summer’s sizzling height,
What feeling tops shirt sticking to chest hair?
A few are flagging, though you wouldn’t know it –
An Englishman is trained to never show it.
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