Empty toilet rolls

were plentiful,

as was newspaper,

so we applied Val’s rules

to personal craft,

shredded the sheets

of Fleet street,

soaked its words

with water

(or some such fluid),

carefully applied its strips

to gaps and cracks and fissures,

mashing and moulding its messages

to a different base;

sticky back plastic

free of charge.

I should’ve won a badge;

resourcefulness was mine,

making the most

out of hard  ‘Times’.

Val’s perfect manicures

could never truly grasp

the craft in that

or how to flush

a  perfect paper-mâché…