What a curious day.
Me, Welshy Tony Trapp and Brummie Colin Sidebender – he can’t make up his mind which side of the fence to swing his you know what’s, thus the surname, that’s modern-day sexuality for you.
Well, the Lunch Club was in fine fettle yesterday. A humble scribbler, a confused lawyer and a retired Colonel who had given up his pistols on account of an over-indulgence of sherry, all stuffed into a Daimler Dart fresh out of the restorers.
I have to admit the car was really quite something. All shiny blue, sparkling chrome and growls…. not forgetting the passenger door that flew open all of its own accord whenever it felt like it.
So there we were, a trio of misfits and all victims of modern life. Age probably had something to do with it too, you know, Toffler’s future shock and all that. Anyway the Dart flew us into the bowels of Midwales and what a lovely journey it was too. Green everywhere with nothing but people to spoil the natural splendour.Tony wasn’t allowed to hold onto anything every time Colin drove around a bend, which I thought was rather mean bearing in mind there are no seat belts in a Dart, his fingers apparently could damage the coach work.
So, at each corner he yelped for deliverance and hoped to God his arse held on to the small sporty seat. Once or twice the passenger door tried to kill him outright but he managed to stay afloat – just.
I was fine, the roof was down and my skinny rump had no trouble fitting into the back.Hell, I have to run around the shower in order to get some water on me!
Having swigged some beer, smoked a rollie and eaten some Black Beef (no racist insult intended, the beef was of the Welsh variety before anyone starts), we eventually arrived at our destination. We had been told that a gathering of wild Red Kites (or, Welsh translation from the Latin: Milvusio Milvusio) looking for a bite to eat were due to appear at 3pm.
The three of us leaned over a rickety fence and waited.
A few sheep seemed to catch the attention of Welshy Tony for a moment or two which was rather worrying, I’m sure I spotted him licking his lips, I mean he was Welsh after all and a lawyer…..I mean well…….I’m Welsh myself but that’s hardly the point is it, there are limits. Anyway sure enough, at about 2.40 some Kites appeared in the distance.
A few minutes later there were about 50 of them, all seeming to start their own Battle of Britain with some crows who sat and squawked defiance in that ugly way of theirs. We watched as white ensigns on wings stretched back for speed, darted through the air and then quickly spread out into a blaze of chestnut red.There was the odd tumble in the air, the odd clash of feathers but most seemed to get what they were after -the meaty morsals hidden in lumps of prickly green grass.
The three of us stood and watched. There was something so removed about it all. So bloody simple. So magnificent.All of us seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Red Kites always stayed together in a relationship. There was never any Kitey infidelity or fly by night divorce. Once the nest was shared that was it – forever.
We also knew that Kites stayed together more for reasons of territory and nest site than love.
……………..Now there’s a thought!