I'm not sure if I need to clarify this for my North American readers (apologies if you already use this word) but here in the UK one of the euphemisms we have for the toilet is "the bog". Where this comes from I wouldn't like to speculate. Well, actually I would. For what it's worth I'm thinking that our ancestors denuded our forests thousands of years ago, effectively turning many of them into bogs. Ergo, we didn't go into the woods to take a dump, we went into the bog. Makes sense, non?
Where am I going with this, I hear you ask. Let me answer...I received a letter today from the Shetlands Islands Council. They have chosen two of my poems, Within Reach and Eisenhower's Mother for their Bards in the Bog project.
The poems will be posted in toilets around Shetland for the next three months, and on the Shetland Library website. For a wee look go to www.shetland-library.gov.uk.
How cool is that? Spend a penny (another euphemism - this time for taking a piss. We Brits love to discuss our bodily functions, but only in the most inoffensive of ways) and you get to read my poems. Beats reading a shitty tabloid. See what I did there?
And no, the "poem" above is not one of mine.
