I booked a seagull. Hanging on to its webbed feet, I flew to Brighton for the afternoon to visit the Offsprogs.
The sea was hidden in white vapour. Offsprog One's friend was painting a gallery front black.
'They say the fog is going to turn to mist later on' he informed us.
We looked impressed.
'What is the difference between fog and mist?'
We didn't know, and vanished into the pale gloom.
Later, we picked our way through rubbish. There is a waste disposal strike in Brighton, just like in the 1970s. There seem to be a lot of dried up carrots in the mix.
'I keep standing on nappies', said Offsprog Two.
I bought some silver coloured shoes half price in the sale.
I rode a squirrel home but it was a bit lazy and took ages.
I wished I'd booked the seagull to bring me home again.