THE SEAGULL & THE CROUTONS

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I’m an idiot for not taking a video of the gull. I’ll tell you why.


For the first day in ages it had stopped raining and was just warm enough for me to have my breakfast outside a café – Eggs Benedict for what it’s worth. Halfway through eating I spotted this gull stood at the door of an estate agent next to the café. At first I thought he (maybe a she, but being a little arrogant I’m thinking a he) was clocking himself in the reflection of the window. However he wasn’t judging his good looks as moments later he was trying to open the door with his beak. When that failed he started to tap at the door – beak taps, that is – trying to get a reaction. Eventually a lady opened the door and gave him a good couple of handfuls of croutons she’d made especially for him.


Apparently the gull visits every single morning at 9.30AM – on the dot – for breakfast and the only reason he had to hang around was that the lady who had fried up the croutons for him had to let them cool down before serving them up. Once he’d scoffed the lot he flew off to wherever gulls go when their not eating or shitting on my car.


While I don’t agree humans should be feeding gulls who really ought to be out at sea fishing for themselves I couldn’t help thinking the interaction between bird and human was OK this time. It’s all about the relationship between a decent human and wildlife to me.


The oddest thing was that when eating the croutons this gull didn’t scream out boasting to all his gull mates that he’d had a result at the estate agents. That’s what usually happens with gulls just before a massive bundle kicks off as they fight to steal each other’s food.


I like seagulls. They’ve got attitude. The rappers of the bird world.


Once, a couple of years ago I was leaving a car park when some heartless moron deliberately drove over a young gull. He flattened the gull then drove off – at speed after spotting me in kill mode. The juvenile gull took a minute or two to die. Sadly I wasn’t brave enough to put it out of its misery. I still feel guilty about that.


I got the reg number of his car, rushed over to the police station but they weren’t bothered. “It’s one for the RSPCA, son,” was all they said. I often think about this. I often think the same thing should happen to that driver. A steam-roller would do nicely.


Here’s ‘Time Out’ my song for the gulls alive and dead from my Dream Rescuer album. I hope you enjoy;


Here’s my album ‘Rainbows End’ on Spotify.  You can stream all my music there or free. Alternatively, for downloads of my work go to BANDCAMP  Here’s the link SPOTIFY


Copyright © 2017/2019 Zoolon Audio.  Music & Photograph. All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.

CLOUDS & TELEPORTATION

clouds7 (3)‘A Scouting Party of Clouds’ – 1

I’d almost forgotten what clouds looked like because of this empty sky heatwave in South East England. So hot for weeks and weeks without a cloud in the sky. The photos taken Tuesday evening of a scouting party of clouds has given me some hope the weather might just be changing back to the usual unpredictable stereotypical kind we all moan about. 30+ degrees centigrade day after day had been killing any creativity I claim to have – worse still my studio where I work is in an attic. The heat up there is indescribable.

clouds6 (2)‘A Scouting Party of Clouds’ – 2

On a different subject, I was, a few weeks back, asked a stupid question by that mate of mine I’ve mentioned before. He’s the one who asked me just before his driving theory test, ‘How many times am I allowed to drive round a roundabout?’ in case that question came up on his test.  That alone says it all about him.  So, this time he asks me, ‘What have seagulls and humans got in common – I bet I’ve got you with this one?’  He had got me with that one – until, on my walk back from the cinema (Ant-Man & The Wasp) the other day when I spotted a seagull attacking – as seagulls are prone to do – a black bin liner full of food waste. This particular gull had ripped the bag wide open and rubbish was scattered all over the road and pavement, but what he had got for himself was a banana. He gobbled up the banana, but left the skin. That, I thought was unusual because gulls normally scoff anything that might look edible. However, that gull had given me the answer to my mates question – i.e. the thing seagulls and humans have in common is that neither species eat banana skins! Got him good and proper.

When I told him my answer to his question, he said, ‘Wrong’. I said ‘Right’. He said, ‘The thing we both have in common is that neither the gulls nor the humans can teleport.’ The word ‘twat’ came to mind.

Given my heat induced absence of creativity I thought I’d give an older number another outing. I blogged it before, a long time back. It’s a longish lyric themed around the relationships and interaction between a fictional group of musicians busking in Berlin, hence the title, BUSKING IN BERLIN. Here it is, along with the opening few words;

Storm clouds on the horizon

No red sky tonight

The wind blows away the magic

Of a starry, starry night

 

Melissa cries for Candy

Candy dreams of John

John is suicidal

On how it all went wrong?

 

Larry plays the old guitar

Kate the mandolin

And Finn plays the accordion

They’re busking in Berlin

 

It’s a game of names and fortunes

A game played out in time

A game of life that ends in death

A mountain we must climb…

 

By the way, any poets out there who might want a poem put to song, then to find out how to contact me and learn more about this product, click here YOUR POETRY TO SONG

A new number, ‘A Trick of the Light’, from one of my favourite artists, The Villagers. Weird and excellent was ever;

The Villagers aside – Copyright © 2014 the song/2018 the rest, Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.

TRACEY SEAGULL & A MEMORY STICK

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‘Tracey the Seagull’ by Zoolon

I met Tracey last week when I was crossing the Channel from Dover to Calais on the way to Dunkirk. When she posed for this photo I had no idea just what a freeloader seagull she was. After the photoshoot, outward bound, just outside of Dover Harbour, Tracey had a bit of a think then had a casual catwalk glide across to the sunny side of the ship and found a spot on the deck rail out of the way of, but still in sight of, human passengers on board. It was there she got herself sat down comfortably and didn’t move a muscle, taking in the rays, until we reached the Port of Calais where she joined Francois the Gull and his pals on a croissant hunt. What a life.

Anyway, I think a memory stick found in a drawer is the modern-day version of dusty old suitcase found in an attic. You take a look inside and find stuff you’d totally forgotten about. I found this, a thing I wrote in 2013 when I was living in a house close to a pebble beach in a road called Canada Road. I forgot I’d ever written it.

NO AUTUMN LEAVES

It’s a shame there’s no trees down on Canada Road

Got no autumn leaves down on Canada Road

You’ll hear the ghosts of Marines, in their infantry greens

Marching to a band down on Canada Road

 

A young mum pushes a pram down on Canada Road

Her mobile glued to her ear down on Canada Road

The bloke up the ladder, he couldn’t look sadder

Clearing out guttering’s on Canada Road

 

On Canada Road I see an old man

Outside the chemists, some pills in his hand

He’s swearing at a biker, he thinks Arsenal need a new striker

Down on Canada Road

 

You can’t be invisible down on Canada Road

Eyes peek from behind curtains on Canada Road

Sally Army and Mormons and some pissed up morons

Doing their thing down on Canada Road

 

Get salty storms down on Canada Road

You can’t beat the sea breeze down on Canada Road

Except when it blows from the East, it’s one mother of a beast

They say Julius Caesar invaded England down Canada Road

 

I’m down on my knees down on Canada Road

There’s just you and me down on Canada Road

And some blokes digging holes, stuffing ham and cheese rolls

Repairing a gas leak down Canada Road

 

It’s a shame there’s no trees down on Canada Road

Got no autumn leaves down on Canada Road

 

Time for some music. ‘Silent Films’ from my Rainbows End album. Hope you enjoy;

To liven things up a bit, here’s Marina & The Diamonds and their song, ‘Hollywood’. I understand she’s in the studio recording a new album right now.

My albums on sale at Bandcamp;

Apart from Marina – Copyright © 2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorized copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.

 

GOT THE BUTTER, NOT THE BREAD

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(old pic I’ve messed about with)

There was a seriously dense blanket of fog the other night. Everything was silent apart from the foghorns of the ships passing through The English Channel.  Eerie sounds, some in the near distance, other miles out a sea. Sound travels well in fog. I never got to sleep a wink. Perhaps, if the foghorns had played in unison, the melody would have helped me drift off. At one point in the early hours I wondered what the seagulls were doing. They certainly weren’t squawking away as per usual. Not a sound.

In the morning, the fog had cleared. I noticed that my car was covered is seagull pooh. I mean, totally covered. I thought about displaying it in an art exhibition. It started off life metallic denim, whatever that is, not that you’d notice that after the gulls had finished with it. That’s probably why it was so quiet at night. The seagulls were obviously tired out after having used my car for target practice.

It was then that a random thought hit me. Car wash businesses must make loads more money the closer they are to the sea? If I owned a car wash business I would make sure to keep the seagulls fed. That way I’d have guaranteed business all year round.

Anyway, an embryonic lyric – not a poem. As always, I’ll muck about with it before it becomes a proper lyric. Hope you like it. 

GOT THE BUTTER, NOT THE BREAD

She’s got a husband and a lover

A rescue dog, this year’s pushchair

Snow white teeth, painted nails

She’s skin and bone but doesn’t care

 

Her husband has a mistress

Her lover a blade and an old 45

Those black varnished nails are flaking

Her heart beats fast but she’s alive

 

Streetwise when she’s got be

She lets the plastic pay

For this and that and everything

She lives from day to day

 

The moneylenders on her case

The microwave’s stone dead

Got an Ultra HD TV

Got the butter, not the bread

 

Her palace is a high-rise

A rusty balcony without a view

Fate hangs out ten stories down

A dark alleyway, no leafy avenue

 

She just wants to go it alone

Get back in the zone

She just wants to go it alone

Please don’t call in the loan

She just wants to go it alone (etc. etc. perhaps)

Copyright © 2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.

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