Daffodils

When in Tesco the other day, I noticed the flower section. "Oh," said I (internally, I'm not a complete nutter). "I shall buy some daffodils. For it's still cold and grey outside. Whereas daffodils are yellow and happy, and when I go into the kitchen they will brighten up my miserable mornings by being a lovely ball of otherwise-absent sunshine."

The bastards have turned out to be albino.

When did my life start to be written by Katherine Mansfield? I'm now worried that falling down the stairs the other day (yes, again; no, I hadn't been drinking) is a deep and meanigful allegory that I'm yet to grasp the significance of.