So it was bank holiday weekend. It also happened to be one of those weeks when I realised I was not being productive, only marking time. I was looking forward to the holiday (only in the UK would one look forward to a one day holiday with so much craving).
So I carried myself to Switzerland for the weekend, did a jiggle between Geneva and Lausanne, even found time on Saturday to make a boat trip across Lake Léman into Evian in France (the weather was not bad and the view good – snow-capped mountains and all),
where I met a bird, as I was sitting by a mobile snack stall with a couple of friends, having a beer, ice cream, apple juice, water and burgers, in no particular order.
The bird flirted outrageously with me, her friend very close by. I wondered to myself: how times change. Look at me sitting down with an indulgent smile on my face, doing nothing but enjoying the attention all the same. Had this happened years ago in Lagos, the bird would already be on her back, or in my hands.
What is it with these birds in the West that they do not appear to have a fear of man, I wonder?