Happy Birthday Stephanie N.

From distant shores, the Southern Sea we think of our Stephanie. Her Birthday is around the bend, so we decided, quick, to send a card to make this special day- but there is nothing much to say due to the fact that installation of a covert, eavesdropping station was not accomplished by my mate when she attended eight-eight-eight. Thus, we don't know her likes and hates, if she is partial to debates, if colours should be pink or yellow and if she's smitten with her fellow. So does she fancy Vegemite and red Lambrusco late at night? Swiss chocolates, kumquats, artichokes, Tyrolean snails and raunchy jokes? Would switching Porsche straight to (a) * Jeep be really a humongous leap, and does she drive through lights when red due to a dainty foot of lead? Do boxer shorts fulfill and please her taste in menswear, does she tease with clothes or hats, a dimply smile, now that they've conquered the old aisle? You see, my friends, we have been kept in dismal darkness. When we slept we dreamed about our Gregory in hopes that he would gladly be a sly informer from afar... You know what sticky-beaks folks are! Yet they were busy with whatever, it looks like all of us may never observe her idiosyncrasies or learn about her Q's and P's. So, please dear Steph, you must agree that facts make better poetry. Perhaps you will forgive old DAD, he really, truly, would have had a poem ready for your day. (I hope the thought will be okay?) Addendumwise though, may I add: Much love to you, from Mom and Dad. *the (a) not to be used if the reader's pronunciation of Porsche is authentic