A nor’ easterly blew – over Dutchman Bank –

on the front at Beaumaris, so we had

our chips, fish and mushy peas in the Vectra,

watching the ebb tide slowly, slowly expose

the furrowed gold of the Lavan Sands

and the cormorants and oyster catchers

skim the waves, when, suddenly, a herring gull,

that voracious omnivore, that frequenter

of rubbish tips and landfills – the colours

of its plumage pristine, as if painted –

landed on our bonnet and, not six feet

from a town council notice forbidding

the feeding of said beasts, watched us eat

each pea, chip, fish flake and morsel of batter –

meanwhile blocking the view – and then buggered off!


Note: this piece has been subsequently published in ‘A Jar of Sticklebacks’ –





, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

  1. #1 by Howard Gardener - March 6th, 2014 at 08:09

    One day, when I know you better, I shall tell you the story about the gherkin and the seagull . . .

(will not be published)

  1. No trackbacks yet.