Seagulls sound like kittens mewling, in the distance they do. 

I live on a council estate inland. There’s a canal though. In recent years before she died when mum would visit I would look at the seagulls and wonder why they were so far in. She told me it was a sign bad weather was coming, they had flown inland to brace themselves against a coming storm. She did this type of advice and information in a matter of fact voice as she wiped down the worktop with a piece of kitchen towel (bounty super absorbent pockets!) and got to reach a child to stop them from falling over with the other hand. Her knowledge of the seagulls of the Irish West fleeing the Atlantic bought to bear in Surrey England. She kept my education going, still telling me to go and see the moon and really look at it as a woman in her 40’s being told by a woman in her late 70’s.

 This week marches were on the move, protests. There are attacks on people because of their accents and skin colour and Gulliver has returned to Lilliput. How funny, we all expected King Arthur and he would reflect our own nobility. Instead we got Gulliver astride a split nation spitting bile at each other. 

Storms are coming, maybe I will ask the seagulls for advice. But then, all they do is fly away and squawk. Maybe they are only good at self preservation, is there a wise animal who can tell me how to weather the storm by finding strength with others. Shame we don’t have elephants here, only long memories and deeper grudges instead of gentle encouragement and no one being left behind.


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