I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a transvestite and an owl to steer him by.
There are times when a virtually irresistible urge comes upon me to
not only see but also to dip my toes into the waves and I cannot rest
until I have done so.
On other occasions I am prepared to move heaven and earth to have
a cuddle with a giant, hairey running do or to bury my face in a
horses' neck and breathe in the whole heady experience.
This afternoon at round about 14.30 it was the sea that called to me
and as I'm only about ten minutes by car from the coast I was off and
away without stopping to wash the dishes from lunch. I can be such
a slut when the mood is upon me.
In next to no time I rocked up in the rather tatty car part behind the
Caister-on-Sea Lifeboat Station amongst the tractors and fishing boats
and owls. No Alice dear I haven't just said the wrong word for seagulls
because there I was in the middle of some bizarre "owl fest" run by a
scrawney little Owl Meister complete with obligatory inkings of said
creatures about all visible parts of his body and a burly, transvestite
chum wearing a rather fetching paisley print shift dress.
As usual when I find myself in a slightly surreal situation like this there
wasn't another living soul about so, armed only with my camera and a
broad grin, I approached the "elephant in the carpark".
Turns out the pair run an owl sansctuary nearby and were on a fund
raising mission but had grossly underestimated the numbers of
tourists they had expected to find at the beach during half term week.
Before proceeding on over the dunes to the beach I made what I
considered to be an appropriate donation to their funds in return
for a couple of snaps of their extremely sleepy and bored looking charges
who every time I went to take a shot managed to turn their heads away
all a bit of a "hoot" I suppose.