It was my Uncle Elli Parry who opened my eyes to the ways of fecundity. He did have a brace of children like grouse, so that may have helped. He told me, one swallow does not a summer make. And then went on the say, the demimonde asleep on the bed is not a story. The demimonde on top of me on a bed, is, however.
His own story ended terribly. He worked as a delivery driver for the reputable company of Pughes and Sons and Lovers, suppliers of love seats, conjugal beds, and sofas for adultery. The company had not been making a profit so had turned to bunk beds. It was one of these that fell on him and squashed him. He got buried in a box bed out back behind the boxwoods. After, my Aunt Sarah could be seen jumping up and down on the bed they had shared for 20 years. It made me cry, knowing that she was deliberately wearing down the springs that my uncle had tenderly loved and cared for.
If you drop the “e” it will mwl