Well Bread

I'm going to bore everyone to death with these bloody birds, I know.  But the daily fowl-feeding ritual is not for The Boy, it's definitely for me.  There is a moment of absolute calm and ignorance when they are just being.  And then I cast that first hard crust of bread and something happens.  It's like gravity pulling them all towards us.  The crows and seagulls start it.  I noticed today that someone had put down lettuce and carrots, hopefully.  The crows picked at the salad halfheartedly, almost politely.  No...they want STALE WHOLEMEAL BREAD, yeah.

Last of all the birds to come to us are the swans, who then take charge.  Last year's cygnets, full adult size but still a bit brown, beat the air loudly and run at us.  It's terrifying and exhilirating.  Then the big swan, clearly the boss, plumps himself up like a sort of parade float and just stands in front of me, demanding bread.

Anyway, later on, a pitstop at Gourmet Foods for some Fry's Peppermint Cream.  I walked my feet to pathetic stumps this morning so need chocolate to repair them.  They stock the wonderfully named Cloetta Plopp chocolate bar.  If I am fortunate enough to be reincarnated I would like that to be my name, please.