almost too tired to write today, our hero pondered, once again finding pondering to be his last resort when all is said and done and the almost full moon but not quite that no one ever writes soliloquies for because it’s merely an almost full moon but not quite all that’s left is the underrated art of the ponder……… he pondered the company of gulls in which he spent most of Sunday much preferring them to people…. people always disappoint and let you down… mark my words, he said to himself this phrase he liked as it lent an authority to any following or preceding statement that it may not even have, nevertheless it sounded good…… gulls accept our hero without question, and yes they may mostly keep an appropriate personal space between him and them but that’s as it should be…. they are birds, he’s not, there’s a line not to be crossed, especially when they fly, our hero although being a hero was not a wannabe Icarus after all……. their acceptance of our hero as almost one-of-their-own is an act of decided gullanthropy on their part serving to reinforce his credentials as a gullologist…. a self-styled term and role he admits making up specially for himself but to our hero’s sounds convincingly authoritative…… many gulls slept atop the crumbling walls where our hero walked spying all the lonely, and little, people below while the gulls perched, bill and face tucked cosily into their wings looking for all the world like misshapen snowballs, except for the eye that fixed him momentarily before going back to dreaming of eating crabs and pooing on peoples cars from great heights…… and why shouldn’t they, people will leave them parked in silly places…….
© robert greig 2017