What I did on my vacation: part the first

I've always had a bit of a soft spot for ducks. They're rather pretty creatures with lovely eyes. My distrust of larger birds (ie geese and swans) was confirmed by several run-ins with my feathered compadres on my recent visit overseas. Have I mentioned to anyone that I went overseas? I've tried to be subtle about it. I failed? Oh well.

Anyway, my first run-in with the birds was fairly innocuous. This one in Henley-on-Thames was more perturbed by the sodden shoe someone had left behind than the psycho South African cooing, "Here ducky, ducky, ducky," attempting to lure him with salted liquorice and sherbet lemons. It's all I had with me, all right?



Things were waddling along nicely but my visit to Stratford-on-Avon nearly unsettled my fascination with water birds forever. In between admiring the lovely buildings, picking postcards of picturesque Stratford and generally mooching along with the Sister, the Sister's Fiancé and Curtis-the-fetus, we tried to feed the duckies with duck food (which was very obviously remarketed pedigree dogfood at 50p a pop).



Yes, yes, aren't they just lovely. Beautiful, graceful, elegant. Not shown, the gang of geese who sized up my defenceless ass and rushed me for the food. Also not shown, the Sister and I debating whether to flee or keep our dignity intact by feeding them really fast and hoping to get rid of them. Eventually we fled and ate icecream instead.

I never had dignity so it's not that hard to miss.