Crisp, my aged companion, stood in front of the old tree and read: “The world’s oldest tree, estimated to be 900 years old.”
The tree was old and scaly, it had its share pf nobbly bits and didn’t look happy with its present situation.
“Know how it feels,” remarked Crisp, “I have days where my bones ache, my once perky bits have succumbed to gravity, and I feel very nobbly.”
The old tree was left in the hope, a change of season might regenerate it, but from what we could see that was more wishful thinking than reality.
“Change of season hasn’t help me, said Crisp, sounding her usual tired self. “This holiday is wearing me out, I’m so glad at night to falling bed.”
With that, she checked her watch and announced it was time for an early morning tea.