Wild Rose.

Here is another wild rose, from a different bush. This one is a lot fuller, and lasts longer. As with just about everything in our garden there is a story about this bush. Here goes....
I used to make copious amounts of home brew. I'm not exaggerating. I made it in beer kegs (what we call iron lungs). I had seven beer kegs , each holding over ninety pints. The shed was a bar in those days, with cooler and taps and gas and all that stuff. For some obscure reason it was known by all and sundry as The Painted Earwig.
Early one sunny Bank Holiday monday my friend and workmate, Fran, knocked at the door. He had spent all of his money and was desperate for a cure. This was not an unusual occurrence. Himself, meself and the Redhead retired to the rear patio area adjacent to the bar.
Now, the home brew was very strong. It didn't affect your wits but it played havoc with your motor reflexes. After two pints Fran politely asked if he could use our loo. Rising from his seat he found that he had no control over his legs. He cartwheeled across the patio and took a headlong dive into the rose bush,
It took us a week to finally clean up all the bloodstains in the bathroom.
Anyway, here's a song to go with the photo.