A roll of paper tape for printing tickets or receipts unravels amid the traffic in Mount Pleasant. It flows and ripples in the wind on the tarmac like a long white tail; and the tyres of cars and buses cannot tame it.
Because of the cold, wet wind, there are no children in the railed-off playground in the Grove. Mr and Mrs Crow have taken it over. Mr Crow sits on the railing and caws. Mrs Crow pecks at the grass and looks for sweeties that the children may have dropped. She makes a strangled clucking noise, a dutiful acknowledgement of her husband's sovereignty.
Whether it is because of the printing ink or the glossy paper on which it is printed, the National Geographic magazine smells wonderful when you first open the new issue. It smells almost as good as some of the photographs look.
5 comments:
Are you SURE that's what the strangled clucking noise meant?
It is amazing and reassuring to think that National Geographic magazine is still going: it always had the capacity to take you to places the brave dare not go.
The National Geographic is one of only two magazine subscriptions we get, and it does smell wonderful when it is opened on arrival!
Mrs Crow says: Ye're "strangled's the word" He's the big man round here and he know it. When I hear him shouting his mouth off, it's all I can do to stop myself spitting.And birds don't spit easily. He owns the park, no getting away from that, but it don't stop me from mocking the bastard. Respect to the sister who wanted to know.
:~D
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