Oh, I do like the smell of recently mounted stamps in the morning. It tends to set up the whole day rather splendidly. To see the sun rising up from behind the tupping sheds and the soft susurrations of the slowly awakening hairstylists as they mutter to each other of the holidays taken in their dreams. Then there are the low rumblings from the distant lawyer sties as the awakening lawyers calculate the possible fee structure from suing the sun for its callous disruption of their sleep.
Then it is down to check on the accordion traps and the anti-wild banjo fencing and ditches. After that, I usually like to put out a little food* for the feral folk singers we brought in to control the infestation of accordions in our woods. Sometimes - if you are lucky - you can catch a glimpse of a feral folk singer as it stalks an accordion. When the folk singer manages to catch an accordion, he clutches it tight to his chest and begins to wrestle it into submission. If you can bear to tolerate the unworldly caterwauling of the entrapped accordion as it struggles to escape the determined clutches of the folk singer, it can be a fascinating spectacle.
However, there is always the danger that the accordion somehow manages to entangle some of the folk singer's beard in its fearsome bellows mechanism. It is then that the accordion turns the tables on the folk singer. For, once it overpowers the folksinger by trapping its beard, and therefore stunning it, the accordion can then lay its eggs in the deepest darkest part of the folk singer's beard before making its escape and fleeing back to the safety of the woods.
It is essential then that you must put the folk singer down as quickly as possible before the accordion eggs hatch and a new infestation begins.
*Just the standard folk singer fare of real ale and meat pies.