It's National Poet's Day so instead of posting more Ghosts in the Woods, today you have a poem from Amie.
I don't think any food outstrips.
A pile of golden fish and chips.
And though they're passable at home.
It's better for a gastronome.
Like me to have them when I'm out.
From shops who really have the clout.
The know-how and the expertise.
And hordes of customers to please.
Frying all day and half the night.
The batter always crisp and light.
The fat red-hot - a vital tip.
To cook the perfect fish and chip.
