Gone soggy

I woke from such an intriguing dream yesterday, which I tried desperately to cling on to thinking it would make the basis for a decent book. The train journey from Leeds flew as I attempted to turn it into words. When halfway to London I reached to take the first sip of the coffee I'd bought back at Leeds the lid exploded off because the cardboard had gone soggy.

Let that be a lesson to you children: ignore coffee at your peril

This morning I stopped at Star-schmucks. Yeah, yeah, I know. I was mobbed by a really persistent pigeon after my frankly lousy muffin. Giving up my attempts to shoo it off the table I sacrificed half the muffin to it, hoping it would take it a long time to gobble it down. Stoopid. All its chums turned up and they polished it off before I'd even managed a slurp of my latte. To add insult to injury the monstrous pigeon came right back to hassle for more.

At that point, the Harris Hawks arrived. The handlers launched one my way to scare off the flying rat. Sadly the fear factor was short lived. It wasn't long before it was back again, this time fancying a bit of croissant from the chap at the next table.

Then seagulls arrived creating a racket and dive-bombing the square, presumably protecting their nests. The hawks hunkered down on their perches looking intimidated. Emboldened the pigeons flew in formation across the square taunting the hawks. Lurking at the corners of the square magpies used the distraction to hop between vantage points, I suspect unguarded gull's eggs were on their breakfast menu.

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