Being a Matching Wall Thing.

I went into the pet shop today to get my wild bird seed, and the woman who runs it was doing what she seems always to be doing when I go in – putting the prescribed quantity of big flying insects (I think they’re locusts) into plastic containers for sale as live food to the proud owners of reptiles which won’t eat anything else.

‘I feel a bit sorry for those little chaps,’ I said in a suitably mournful tone.

‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But there’s one woman comes in here who bought a pot of them to keep as pets. She’s an artist – bit off the wall. She’s also got two pheasants and a guinea pig which have the run of her studio, and the guinea pig has several comfy little beds dotted around for him to sleep on.’

A question and answer session ensued. I had to know all about this woman, didn’t I, because whatever wall she’s off is probably the same as the one to which I became a virtual stranger quite a long time ago.