At last, life is starting to sort itself out down here. Met some great new mates including a number of sea gulls. Hate to say it but I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about them. Far from dull, a fair few of them have been hilarious with a surprisingly dry wit. Clive who we met the other day wants to teach me to swim. Could be interesting. Of course Mart asked him if he taught surfing too. Said he was planning to make himself a surfboard out of tooth picks. Jesus.
Best bit is we’ve managed to sort ourselves a half decent ledge in the better end of a place called Kemp Town. Near enough to the action for warm chips, but far enough away to get some sleep on a Friday night, and it’s also only a five minute fly to the middle. Genius.
The pigeon refuge was fun for a while – see last post, and it was great to meet pigeons like Tony, but it can get a bit much. Everywhere you turn there’s a pigeon wanting to chat. You just want to tell them to fuck off, but you can’t.
Now we’ve finally got our own pad, we can start to kick back. The shit clearing rule stays though.
At the weekend, during a classic game of Shit or Miss over the Brighton Marathon, the sun even managed to come out. At long fucking last it seems the longest winter ever is coming to an end. Surely a hot summer is in order to make up for it?
All in all, life is good, and it’s possibly about to get a whole lot better…
Today, I met the pigeon of my dreams. She reminded me a bit of a pigeon I was into years ago called Mary. Something I won’t be mentioning.
Clive had invited Mart and me to Gull Fest. Gull Fest is an annual event for the local sea gulls held in a place called Queen’s Park.
He told us that not many pigeons get the nod. He wasn’t wasn’t wrong:
Even though it was banging, we did feel a bit awkward at first.
Think the ducks were feeling it too:
Turned out to be a right laugh in the end.
A highlight for me was when one of the funniest gulls I’ve ever seen did a routine about swans and sparrows. Last time I saw her was on a mini-break in Brighton last year.
She’s called Harriet but likes to be known as Harry.
Yes, It is a female:
She was fucking funny. Mart and me pissed ourselves.
Anyway, there I was hanging out chatting away to a pigeon called Andy who talked a lot when, suddenly, a vision walked in front of me. Nearly spat out my own tongue. Never seen anything so lovely:
She was drop dead gorgeous. I asked Andy to see if he could find out any detail on the whereabouts of her ledge.
She totally ignored him. Hilarious:
Then I found out what he was saying: “Excuse me. My friend over there. See him. Over there. He wants to know where you live.”
Jesus. No wonder. Probably thought he was some fruitcake stalker.
But then, thankfully, she changed her mind:
She told him she lived in a window-box in Hove. Think we might be hooking up at the weekend.
Wish me luck. Not been on a date for years. May even have a wash.