Saturday, 3 August 2013



"Hello pelican. Hello pelican. Are you a prince? Shall I give you a kiss and shall you turn in to a handsome prince? Am I silly chattering to you? Everyone's drowsy. The others are all drowsy. They're dozing off 12 to the dozen and I'm bored, and self-conscious. They're all in the shade after our picnic. Umbrella is Spanish for shadow. Imagine carrying a shadow around with you wrapped around a stick, and opening it when you wanted to plop a shadow down on your head - if it was hot or you were shy, or had said something embarrassing. Will you stop still to let me tie this bib on you? I'm frightened to. Should I? They've all nodded off and the shadows are being placed like tablecloths on to the light and the day's going out to sea. Our wonderful wished-for day at the seaside's slipping away and it's not been what I thought. Let me tie this bib on you, will you. shan't you, and I'll feed you this piece of my fish finger sandwich I saved. If I were to kiss you would you bite me or would you become my betrothed?"

"Silly girl. A pelican can't talk. GIVE ME FISH. GIVE ME FISH"

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