Wanna fly! Wanna fly! Wanna fly!

Can’t! Can’t!

Rock, rock, rock, rock. Fear! Fear! Fear!

Where?

Where?!

Run down the ‘perch’! Jump into the ‘bowl’! Throw out the food. Sod off! Go! Scram! Take that! Take that! Hah! WAH!

Yay!

Sudden quiet! Brave Baldo! Clever Baldo! Dead monster!

Preen!

‘Teobaldo! **** **! *** Teobaldo! ******!’

[‘Teobaldo! Stop it! Bad Teobaldo! Enough!’]

Yes! That’s me! Teobaldo! That’s me! Happy! Happy! Dead monster! Hah! Here she comes.

Urgh. Finger. Urgh! Kill the finger! Eat the finger! Urgh! Come on! Head tip. Watch finger! Waggle finger!

Come on! Come on!

Bitch.

WAH!

‘Teobaldo! ***** ****** ** **** ****! ***** ***! *** ***! **** ******** ** **********!’

[‘Teobaldo! You’ve messed in your food! Silly boy! Bad boy! Stop throwing it everywhere!’]

Baldo a girl. La la! Baldo a girl. La la! Baldo a girl, you bitch jailer fool.

Where’s Baldo’s egg? Eh? Bitch?

Where’s Baldo’s mate? Eh?

Where’s Baldo’s nest?

Just. Let. Baldo. Go!

Wanna fly! Wanna fly! Wanna fly!

Rock, rock, rock, rock.

No fly.

‘Cage’.

‘Cage’.

What Baldo do so bad? Eh?

‘Ceiling’. ‘Cage’. Dead wings. Can’t … Can’t … Trapped. Panic in bones. Dead wings.

Itch! Itch! Ruffle feathers. Scratch!

Breuuugh!

That’s better!

Breuuugh!

That’s better!

Baldo! Baldo! Baldo! Baldo!

Uh-oh! Here she comes again!

‘**** **** Teobaldo! **** ********** ********! ***** ***** **** *** *****, eh?

‘Pretty boy! ***** ***** **** *** *****? Eh? ** ** *** ******? Eh? **** *** **** *** ******? **** ** ****** * **** ** *** *** ****** ** *** ******* ** ******** **** **** ** ** *** *****. Eh? Pretty boy!’

[‘Stop that, Teobaldo! Stop scratching yourself! What’s wrong with you today, eh?

‘Pretty boy! What’s wrong with you today? Eh? Is it the hoover? Eh? Don’t you like the hoover? Well I’m afraid I have to use the hoover if you persist in throwing your food on to the floor. Eh? Pretty boy!’]

Baldo! Baldo! Baldo! Baldo!

Pretty boy! Pretty boy! Pretty boy!

But Baldo a girl!

La!

Baldo a girl!

Ta-dah!

Pretty boy!

Preen!

Eh? Eh?! Where ‘sun’ go?

Huh?

Where ‘sun’?

Where’d it go?

WAH!

7

Mr Franklin D. Huff

I don’t know why I imagined I’d make it all the way around to Hastings before the tide came in. It was an ambitious scheme, at best – not so much even a scheme as a blithe notion, a vague ‘urge’, a complete spur-of-the-moment thing – and I was (quite frankly) unsuitably shod. It’s a challenging walk, much of it demanding – with the tide coming in, out of sheer necessity – a measure of energetic clambering and even leaping from large rock to large rock.

An ambitious scheme, as I’ve said. A foolish scheme. And then, when I finally made it back (forty-eight hours later! Barely still in possession of life and limb) … On my eventual return … The conquering hero (ha, ha, ha) …

Urgh! How else can I describe the vileness I encountered? Just … just … just plain … urgh!