Forest Wanted (part 2) redrafting

The next day, I opened up my window – which looks out onto a back street in central Leicester – only to find a sea of foliage, stretching all the way up from Lower Oxford Street and off out into, well – the hills – where previously, there had been only a 24 hour Tescos and a football themed boozer. As I was in the process of drawing the curtain, a branch, had been in the process of attempting to knock on the glass. The branch had a piece of A4 white paper skewered on it’s point. The paper had my job advert written across it’s lines in sap green pen. By the time I had opened the window, the tree had switched to wafting the sap scrawled advert in what can only be described as a comely fashion – something for which the Sycamore specious are not naturally famed for, supporting as they do only a handful of UK invertebrates, and so generally being disparaged by the ecological community. Such prejudice is often liable to adversely affect one’s character, leading to bitterness and alienation. The Sycamore before me however, seemed perfectly personable. In fact, in it’s wafting of paper I detected a kind of deliberate and good natured fanning, a nod to the paintings of pre-Raphaelite mythology I was known to like and in general a clear sign of dedication. Behind the Sycamore, two Oaks were waiting it out patiently. It was hard to tell whether they were with the Sycamore, or candidates in their own right – and I didn’t like to ask for fear of offending. Instead, I quietly closed the window and went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea – the doing of which I have found in most circumstance, to be of use. Outside, the trees rustled.