Cornflower was always a sad youth, oversensitive and excessively inclined to introspection. But his parents had expected him to bring to life their aspirations for business. Even when choosing his name, they were thinking about flowers. What materialists!
But Cornflower had no interest in going into business. “So what are you going to do, petal?” his parents would ask.
“I’m going to write books.”
“About flowers?” they asked, intrigued.
“No. About the suffering of my generation.”
Sociologists called it the daisy generation. Its members had not a stamen of ambition – and even if they had, there would be no place for them to put out buds or