Years ago, we went to lunch with a girlfriend up from Adelaide for a few days, and took her to the Continental Cafe at New Farm. Attempting a little derring-do, I ordered a Campari which I'd never tried before but it seemed a hip thing to do. I don't remember much about the Campari (note to self: time to revisit) but its bottle was a different story. It came home in my handbag and has been indispensable ever since as a pretty and interesting little vessel for a single bloom.
The bunch of gerberas I'd bought on the weekend already had a saggy one by today (reminding me silently but politely that I hadn't done my tush-lifting exercises yet) and nipping her off above the droop will breathe a few more days life into her. Behold, Campari and Gerbera (shaken, not stirred).