Dear Reader,
Tell me, what would you do if your Mum was inconsoable over a chicken bone? If a ticket machine swalled your £20 note? And if your boyfriend told you he would no longer be interested once you hit 25?
As I mentioned yesterday, I went back to Brighton to spend some time with my Mum and enjoy some time at home. One of the delights of living by the sea, as many of you will know, are the swarms of Sea Gulls that cloud the sky and steal your sandwiches. We have one that lives in our garden.
Sylvia (I decided she must be female) frequents our back door every morning. A "tap, tap" announces her presence and she is usually rewarded for her patince with last night's left overs. If she's lucky she will also recieve a rasher of raw bacon. She loves it, gobbling it down and often calling out in delight. She has even stepped in to our house on occasion but only when she is feeling particularly bold.
Yesterday afternoon as we were drinking tea Sylvia decided to drop in, tapping at the window in the normal fashion. Obligingly, my Mum went to fetch her some left overs which she had been saving for the gull. These left overs consisted of old roast chicken. The meat was still on the bone.
Thinking that Sylvia would separate the meat from the bone before eating the contents, Mum threw the food in the bird's path. But Sylvia was too quick. With hawk-like finesse she swooped towards the chicken and swallowed it in one. Bone and all.
"Oh my God," Mum said, "I've killed the gull."
We both peered at Sylvia. She seemed......ok. Ok, except she had a bulbous bump in her next which extended sideways. Then, she flew away up on to a nearby roof.
By now Mum was fretting "I've killed her!" They had been friends for some time now. "Oh, what am I going to do!" Well, it's not as if you can feasibly catch a sea gull and then pull a chicken bone out of it.
We just had to wait to see if she came back.
This morning as I was getting ready to catch a train back to London we heard a tap at the back door. Looking out in to the garden we could see Sylvia glaring through the window at us. Her neck was still bulging but hey, she was still alive! Mum was over the moon.
I arrived back in London around midday and had an hour until I had to go out again. I am doing some PR for an up and coming poet and was accompanying him to an interview today.
Back at the tube station I approached a ticket machine so that I could top up my Oyster Card. For once I had cash and thought I'd use that instead of paying on my card. After choosing to top up by £10 I put a £20 note in to the machine expecting change. Nothing came out. Not a penny. Not even a glimmer. I was running late but furious. Cursing out loud I hastily looked for a ticket officer. No one was to be found (that's the trade unions for you). It was 1.15 and I really needed to be catching the tube. Zig zagging between the machine, in the hope that something may have popped out (surely anything can happen if you believe hard enough?!), and the ticket office, I ran myself into a frenzy and managed only to catch the attention of the security guard. When I did find the ticket man it was too late and I had to get on.
The interview though went really well and I managed to get home by 5 before my boyfriend and could make sure I was looking relaxed and pretty for when he returned. He arrived about half an hour later in quite a bad mood.
"Long day?" I enquired.
"Yeah," he sighed and proceeded to pour himself a whisky. Barely even a hug for me.
The evening progressed and B perked up to his usual self. In fact he felt so perky that he felt bold enough to tell me that once I was 25 (I'm just about to turn 22 now) I'd be past it. Old. Unattractive. Past it. He then said he was joking. Humph! Men do have the strangest sense of humour sometimes. I think I could forgive him as he made me hot water bottle this evening and said that he missed me last night.
But seeing as he's 24 I think he's lucky that I don't try and apply the same rule......
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