A small flock - no more than ten or 12 - of seagulls keeps returning to one corner of The Grove. This morning I can see why. Someone has left some pieces of bread and other goodies on the grass. They must be the same birds I guess which have learnt about a regular act of charity. What is interesting is that the gulls don't settle to eat the food as land birds would, but rather swoop and pick it up on the wing, as they might fish at surface level on the sea. I know that seagulls do settle on ploughed fields where a tractor has just turned over the soil and on rubbish tips, but here they seem reluctant to land. May be it is the sheltered, intimate nature of The Grove which makes them shy.
One reason for posting this blog virtually on a daily basis is being unable to lose the deadline habit which was part of my former life as the editor of a weekly magazine. In September of last year I launched another blog less rigid in its self-imposed deadlines, but still not entirely free of them. It is devoted to short stories intended to amuse if not not enlighten. A week or so ago, I thought that St Valentine's Day might be a reason for another post (no 21 in fact) in One Fine Day. The deadline in preparation for February 14 was today. Hence a new story, Making it Up, about a couple at a restaurant where the conversation over a lavish Valentine's Day menu is to say the least awkward.
1 comment:
I've knocked on your other door instead.
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