The Spanish Bluebell.

I don't know what this specimen is doing in our garden. This is a Spanish bluebell; it's big, it's butch and it stands erect and proud.
It is in stark contrast to the British variety which is small and wimpish, and suffers from what I can best describe as - I'm sorry ladies - but it's brewer's droop. In spite of, or because of this, it is a protected species. Mrs TD has been known to berate the proprietor of the local garden emporium (who features on televisin and radio gardening programmes) after having been fortified by a one shot cappuccino, in a mug, extra hot (she's nothing if not particular about her pleasures is Mrs TD). Now where was I, oh yes, Mrs TD berating the proprietor, the problem is that the emporium sells the interloping variety which hybridises with the locals. Roslin is a veritable hotbed of native bluebells, Kilburn woods must put on the best display in the Lothians, but we are starting to find the droopy ones looking as though they're on Viagra; this is not good, no, there will be a reckoning.

I'm very sorry, the affliction affecting Sir Picanuper Troll, King of Gravesend and Thereabouts seems to be contagious.

Walk Tall.

Edit
It is Tuesday, the affliction has worn off now.