Way down or way up?
This notice on the door at the back of the Black Pig seems , as specific notices often do, to lend itself to a more general interpretation: "Please be aware that the terrace may get hot and melt. Please ensure that your personal belongings are not left on the floor to avoid stains.".
"There's a parrot across the road," shouts Heidi. And indeed there is the macaw - the one with the rude laugh who says "hullo" in three or four different voices - from round the corner. Now it has escaped and settled in a rhododendron clipped into a cube beside the drive of the house opposite. It pokes its head out as though it is a cuckoo in a clock. Along comes its owner, Sarah: "I'll strangle him," she says. With a little coaxing she takes him into her welcoming arms. "I ought to clip his wings, " she says, "but they're so beautiful," and strokes the long blue feathers.
YOu seem to like tha parrot a little better this time...
The Guardian has a corrections column that is often an entertaining read. They apologised for saying in a report about the F1grand prix in Hungary that the temperature was 76 deg C "which," said our reader, "would have meant that all the spectators were dead and the cars were racing through a trough of molten tarmac".
Sometimes I like the parrot. Sometimes I laugh at him. His hysterical laughter is very funny. So too, his repetitious "hullo" in different tones of voice.Sometimes I resent his strident squacking. Sometimes I hate him. I feel about him as I do about the human race.
That's a good image: molten tarmac.
In your response to Lucy, you have described my feelings toward my backyard crows perfectly...and my feeling toward the rest of humanity, as well.
Does that (the similarity of views toward people) make us curmudgeons? If so, then good! If not, then what must I do to become one? I rather like curmudgeons.
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