I'm just being silly and I studied too many poems at college

Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.

Let's read that sentence carefully.

"Friends are angels"? Far be it from me to deny that Jerome has many wonderful friends. We are kind, loyal, and stick with him no matter what he does...and he has done some interesting things in his time, as I hope this blog shows (I was going to post about the "banned from Hanney incident" but that would be mean - unless someone with Hobbiton connections eggs me on). But I really don't think any of Jerome's friends are angels.

But for the sake of argument and to keep the metaphor going, let's assume that some of Jerome's friends are angels: Dan, me, Rence, and Clare F will do.

Picture the scene: Jerome sitting on the ground in a melancholy posture, his wings drooping by his side. There's something his wings should be doing, but they can't remember what it is. Along fly Clare F, Rence, Dan B, and myself on our angel wings.

"Aha," they cry, "Jerome's wings have forgotten how to fly. But that's all right. If we pick him up, they'll remember."

I sense a flaw in this plan. What if the wings don't remember? What if the wings went out to the Sanctuary the night before and are a bit bladdered or hungover? These are Jerome's wings, dont' forget. Presumably this is why the angels lift us to our feet (and I'll hear no jokes about feet, thank you, because there are several feet references earlier in this august blog) in case our amnesiac wings send us plummeting to earth after our friends have let go.

Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.

Humph.