I’ve been watching the pigeons in the park and I could become quite a pigeon fancier. I never noticed on the pigeons in London but when the sun catches their neck it reveals glowing green and purple colouring. The pigeons in Verona are big and fat. If you can’t make it as a pigeon here you’re not trying hard enough. Their mating behaviour is interesting as well. The female pigeon will be slowly walking around, pecking for food, when a male pigeon, puffed to double its normal size and with tail feathers spread, will trot up to it warbling as hard as he can. The female pigeon then ignores the male and continues looking for food while the male prances around. I think there are some similarities with the human mating ritual. I’m thinking about developing my own pigeon strut to impress the ladies. After all, there are a hell of a lot of pigeons.
Talking of things military in nature, I recently saw a man in tourist attire take up his umbrella as if it were a gun and test out various sniping positions over a wall. In Sherlock Holmes fashion I surmised that he was an American and his speech soon confirmed this. It made me wonder at his motives. Was he simply a keen sporting shooter? Perhaps a psychopath with too much time on his hands. It could be that he was keeping his skills sharp in case his country suddenly needed him or that he was a secret operative planning an invasion of Italy. I think not bringing a book with me was a big mistake.
I’m over here in Italy, slowly wandering down the street due to malnutrition brought on by a stomach bug, when I come across a newsagent. I thought I would pop my head in to check the cultural differences in the media and to my great surprise there was a magazine devoted to pasta. It made me wonder just how many ways there are to cook it. Is this marketing gone mad or does it fill a vital gap in pasta information? I’m buggered if I know … I think I’ve got sun stroke.
Dave out.
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